


I Think I'm in Love (But It Makes Me Kinda Nervous to Say So)

by musingsonaredradish



Category: Glee
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsonaredradish/pseuds/musingsonaredradish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this prompt on the GKM:<br/>Everyone has a soulmate and kurt is a romantic, he dreamed his whole life about finding HIM.<br/>What kurt didn't think of was that his soulmate would be someone so unexpected he would turn his whole world upside down. Because kurt finds out that his soulmate is actually badboy Blaine Anderson!<br/>But what kurt and the other people don't know is that blaine is actually a sweetheart, too. Yes, he dress in leather, he rides a bike, he gets into fights and all the cliches, but the truth is he is willing to give everything to the people he loves. It's just that nobody gave him a chance before and he uses that strong image to defend himself from the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic literally would not exist without gingerberrysnap and genuinewarmdecentfeeling (seaouryou) who acted as betas, dramaturgs, consultants, handholders, and cheerleaders. I love you both lots and lots. 
> 
> Thanks to the OP for such a killer prompt. 
> 
> Thanks to all of you for reading!

Kurt is seventeen when it appears. He is the last member of his class to get his, a fact of which they never fail to remind him. Some do it cruelly, like the football players who use it as proof that he’s unwanted; some do it kindly, like Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina, who try their best to reassure him that it’ll show up eventually. Either way, he’s faced daily with the fact that he’s not marked, and that this makes him even weirder than he already is. 

Not that everyone has found the owner of their marks--most haven’t, actually. Not everyone registers when they get their marks, and not everyone wants to find out who owns the other half of their soul while they’re still in high school. Add to that a system that’s often overloaded with new requests and a bureaucracy that seems to make it harder to access mark records in other regions even as they attempt to make it easier, and sometimes the newly marked don’t receive their match for months--if not years. 

The worst off are those whose matches haven’t yet hit puberty--and might not for years, still. The most famous case of its kind was a woman who waited 20 years until her soulmate--a late bloomer anyway--reached 18. The news covered their union with great fanfare. Kurt was 8 years old, and he was riveted.

Kurt is happy it isn’t going to take that long for him to even get his own mark. He can’t even start worrying about the finger on the other side of the print blossoming on his skin yet. 

It doesn’t hurt, which surprises him even though everyone told him it didn’t. It’s solidly recognizable for what it is--a replica of a human fingerprint embedded in his skin, flushed brown like the moles already lining his arms. It is tucked away on the inside of his right elbow, and it belongs to someone. Out there in the world is a hand that carries this print, and another arm that carries his. 

Kurt has been waiting for this moment his whole life. 

His attic holds a box filled with Power Rangers all bearing marks of their own, drawn on with his mother’s eyeliner and later with ballpoint pen, matched sets married off to a joyous future Kurt could only dream of. Now that dream is his, for real this time. 

Kurt convinces his father to let him skip his morning classes in order to go register right away; he isn’t going to wait any longer than he has to before putting his future in motion. 

The registration process is clinical and anticlimactic; no matter how well he knew that no results would come his way immediately he’d still harbored a fantasy of exactly that. No such luck--Kurt leaves the registration office with a slip of paper verifying his registration, contact information if his results fail to show up within a month, a list of counselors trained in helping the newly marked come to terms with what it means to have a soulmate, and a pamphlet that looks like something Ms. Pillsbury carries in her office. 

He heads to school just in time for 3rd period, wearing rolled sleeves despite the chill. He’s been marked. He wants everyone to know. 

Of course, when he enters the school everyone is in class. He checks in at the office, flushing with pride when he tells the secretary where he’s been, but she barely blinks an eye at him.

He heads back out into the empty, echoing halls, his heart still aflight with the excitement of his morning. He’s determined to find someone he can share his joy with. His dad had been happy for him, sure, but it wasn’t quite the same as proving one of his tormentors wrong. There was a special kind of joy in that. 

There are no tormentors to be had in the halls of McKinley, however, at least not at that time of morning. Kurt covers the majority of the school without running into a single skipping classmate, which seems absurd to him; he knows there are students who have made an art out of never attending class but still getting credit by staying on school grounds. He knows they have to be somewhere. 

He’s just about to give up when he heads into the stairwell that leads to his class. There, tucked away under the arch of the stairs in a place the majority of their less observant classmates would overlook him, is the only McKinley student Kurt would rather not be caught alone in a deserted stairwell with--Blaine Anderson.

Not because Blaine is a jerk to Kurt--on the contrary. Blaine is one of the few students to come to Kurt’s defense when the assholes on the football team are in his personal space. Blaine has always been what Kurt has come to consider his scrappy mutt of a guardian angel. It’s made all the weirder by the fact that they never really...talk.

Of course, Blaine rarely talks to anyone in school. Kurt’s not really sure he’s ever seen Blaine carry on much of a conversation. Not that he’s ever rude. Blaine just keeps to himself, and their fellow students seem quite content to let him continue on that way. 

A few well placed brawls within your first month at a new school would do that for you, Kurt supposes. He’s never been in a fight himself; he wouldn’t know. 

In any case, it makes him uncomfortable to be left alone with Blaine because he just never knows what to say. He can’t figure they have anything in common, what with Blaine’s fondness for jeans and a leather jacket and a terrifying looking motorcycle and way too much hair product and paperback books that were probably printed in the 60s and Kurt is pretty sure he smokes though he hasn’t actually ever smelled cigarette smoke on Blaine before--and he’s gotten pretty close to him in the few times that Blaine had intervened when Azimio was harassing him. 

He’s pretty sure Blaine doesn’t care about being marked, at least. 

Blaine’s caught sight of Kurt, Kurt realizes. He lowers the book he’s reading and reaches for the earbud in his left ear. 

“Kurt Hummel,” he says, his voice like warm honey. “What’s got you all in a tizzy this morning?”

“Nothing,” Kurt replies, his voice lilting up higher with nerves and his still breathless excitement. “Nothing in particular.”

“I doubt that,” Blaine says, stretching his legs out to rest on the other half of the crevice under the stairs. “You’re skipping class. Something exciting must’ve happened to make Kurt Hummel break the rules.”

“I break plenty of rules, thank you,” Kurt says, feeling suddenly defensive. “I’m not some goody two shoes.”

Blaine just tilts his head, eyeing Kurt. Kurt sighs. 

“It’s stupid,” Kurt says, his hand instinctively going for his mark. “I mean, you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think you know me well enough to know what I’d find stupid,” Blaine says, leaning back against the wall. His confidence is commanding. “But I do know you got your mark.”

“How could you--”

“I’m looking right at it,” Blaine says, chuckling lightly. “Or I was, until you started covering it up with your hand there. It’s not going anywhere, you know.”

“Fine, I got my mark,” Kurt says, releasing his grip on his arm. Blaine nods. 

“Congratulations,” Blaine replies, turning back to his book. Kurt assumes the conversation is done. He moves to continue up the stairs, but Blaine’s voice halts him. 

“Have you registered yet?” 

“This morning,” Kurt answers, turning back. Blaine is still reading. “That’s why I was late.”

“Well, I hope you get your results soon,” Blaine answers, glancing up to meet his gaze. “Waiting sucks.”

“Are you registered?” Kurt asks, and he expects Blaine to blow him off. Instead, Blaine lowers his book once more, situating himself more comfortably on the ledge. He’s so much smaller like this than Kurt expects, like he’s seeing Blaine without his armor. He knows about armor--he can recognize it well in others. 

“I am,” Blaine says. “I have been for the past 3 years. I was much more romantic at 14 than I am now.”

“I can’t imagine you as a romantic,” Kurt says, and Blaine chuckles. 

“Why? Do I wear too much leather to be romantic? Am I too scary? Are you scared of me, Kurt Hummel?” Blaine says, and his head tilts coyly at this. Kurt’s embarrassed by the rush of heat he feels when Blaine’s eyes cast up slightly through his lashes. This, truth be told, is the reason he mostly avoids being around Blaine for long. He can’t control the way his body responds when he’s in his presence.

The bell signaling the end of third period then, breaking the moment. Blaine sighs and reaches for his bag, shoving the paperback inside. 

“I’m not scared of you,” Kurt says, but the sound is lost in the cacophony of the halls. 

“See you around, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says, hoisting his bag on his shoulder. As he passes, Blaine’s finger brushes with purpose, feather-light, over Kurt’s newly-formed mark. 

He thinks he feels it tingle but he can’t be sure. He’s never really been touched by a boy before. Maybe this is how it always feels. 

He’s always known that his soulmate would be a boy, even before he understood what his soulmate being a boy might mean to some. For the most part, any homophobia that had existed because the discovery of the soulmate marks has dissipated--it’s hard to argue with the incontrovertible existence of bits of two people embedded in each other. Yet some believe that a mark is not meant as an indicator of sexual or romantic attachment but of an almost holy platonic bond--a position that’s hard to argue when the majority of soulmates report an intense physical attraction as well as an emotional and intellectual one. “WHY SEX WITH YOUR SOULMATE IS BETTER,” headlines on magazines read. 

Kurt’s not really concerned about the sex being better--or having sex at all, yet. For Kurt, having a soulmate has always been more about belonging than a heightened rush of endorphins. When he’d asked his mom what having a soulmate was like when he was younger, she’d said that it felt like coming home. He wants that so badly he can taste it. 

As kids crowd around him, making their way to their next classes, Kurt unrolls his shirt sleeve, covering his mark. He’s not sure why, but he no longer feels the urge to share it with anyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

Glee that afternoon makes Kurt glad he chose to keep his news secret. He walks into a room divided, with Rachel and Mr. Schue on one side and nearly everyone else on the other. Rachel’s face is red, tear-stained, and angry. 

“It’s not my fault,” Finn is saying as Kurt enters. It is all he keeps saying. 

“It was supposed to be you,” Rachel cries, reaching for anything she can throw in his direction. Mr. Schue is doing his best to hold her back but few things can take on the force of a Rachel Berry tantrum. “I knew it was you, I was sure it was you!”

“Finn got his mark letter,” Mercedes says to Kurt, sliding up next to him to explain the scenario playing out in front of them. “It wasn’t Rachel.”

Mercedes has had her mark the longest of anyone in their class, having hit puberty at the age of 10. She didn’t register right away--”I was too busy playing to worry about boys,” she says when Kurt asks. She’s also the only person Kurt knows personally to know who her soulmate is. His name is Sam Evans, and he lives in Kentucky. Sam and Mercedes have been writing to each other and texting over the past year but they haven’t met in person. Mercedes wants to graduate from high school first. Sam is persistent, but is thus far respecting her boundaries. 

There is a part of Kurt, a large, bitter part, that is enjoying the fact that Rachel was so wrong about Finn after everything. It had been a rather large school scandal when Rachel had gotten between Finn and Quinn Fabray the year before. Finn and Quinn knew they weren’t each other’s soulmates going into their relationship, according to Finn--Quinn already knew who hers was and that he lives in Italy, and she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of her having a full high school experience. Rachel had been so convinced that Finn was her soulmate that she’d easily convinced Finn of the same, and soon he was leaving Quinn for her. That Rachel was wrong made Kurt smile for that part of him that had fought with Rachel over it and had harbored the idea that maybe Finn was actually his soulmate instead. The mere idea makes Kurt want to laugh, though he’d never dare laugh aloud while Rachel Berry is this upset. He’d never hear the end of it. It’s still ridiculous for Kurt to think of Finn as anything but a brother at this point. Their parents had met through a social group for people who have lost their soulmates--a group Kurt had pushed his father to join--and have been dating for the better part of a year. It’s not the same connection one has with their soulmate, Kurt’s father explained one night, but it’s nice. Companionable. Burt is happier than Kurt has seen him in years. 

Rachel appears to have run out of steam finally; the room is surprisingly quiet. 

“Okay, everybody,” Mr. Schuester says, patting Rachel on the back once more. “Let’s try to get some focus here.”

“We’re all focused except for the caterwauling she-demon over there,” Santana says. “Anyone with half a brain could’ve told her the chances of her soulmate being the doughy quarterback of her high school football team who makes her panties wet were slim-to-none.”

“Santana,” Mr. Schue says uselessly as Rachel’s tears start back up. She pushes her way past Mr. Schue and straight into Kurt, who is between her and the door. 

“You are so lucky, Kurt,” Rachel says when she sees him. “I wish I had never gotten my mark, either.”

“I’m just saying,” Santana is still going on. “Who here has heard of a soulmate pair being in the same high school? No one. It doesn’t happen.”

“Mr. Schue and Emma are in the same school,” Tina points out. Santana snorts.

“Yeah, as adults,” Santana says. “Emma moved here to be with him. Not the same thing.”

“You’re just angry because Brittany isn’t your soulmate and you’re taking it out on everybody else,” Finn says, and the room falls totally silent. Santana bristles visibly, like a cat whose hair has gone on end. 

“Guys, come on,” Mr. Schuester says once more. “Stop fighting with each other. I get it, soulmate marks are a really important part of becoming an adult and you guys have a lot of feelings about those. So let’s use that passion.”

“Oh no,” Mercedes groans to Kurt. “I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Schuester makes for the white board and uncaps a marker before writing “SOULMATES” across the board. 

“Great lesson Mr. Schue, except for one thing,” Santana pipes in then. “Our own personal Hummel figurine hasn’t gotten his mark yet.”

“I’m sure Kurt still has feelings on the matter,” Mr. Schue says, before Kurt decides to bite the bullet. 

“Actually, I have,” Kurt says, unbuttoning his sleeve and rolling it up. He can hear murmurs beginning to form around him. 

“Way to go, bro!” Finn says before leaping out of his chair, obviously ecstatic. He claps Kurt hard on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It just happened this morning,” Kurt says as Mercedes pulls him into a hug. 

“Aww, our Kurt is finally becoming a woman,” he hears Santana say before Mr. Schue silences her yet again. 

“Have you registered yet?” Mercedes asks, and Kurt nods.

“Yeah, yeah, this morning,” Kurt says. Mercedes beams. 

“Don’t listen to these yahoos, okay?” she says, almost conspiratorially. “It’s a fantastic thing. It’s not like this. I’m so happy for you, baby.”

“Thanks, Mercedes,” he says as Mr. Schue tries once more to rally the class.

“Even more reason to make this our week’s assignment,” he says. “Let’s talk about soulmates.”

Later that night finds Kurt is curled up on the couch in his living room with his school books open. The house is silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the front hall. His dad is on a date with Carole and Kurt is left alone with his thoughts. 

He knows that Santana is right, that soulmates rarely originate in exactly the same geographic area, though many are within just a few hours travel from each other. He also knows she’s wrong because he has proof right in front of him in the form of a picture of his parents on the mantle. They’re dressed in matching graduation robes. 

His soulmate parents had been high school sweethearts. 

With a sigh, Kurt determines that attempting any further homework that night is a hopeless endeavor. He gathers his books into his bag and sets it at the door before heading upstairs for his skincare routine. Before he gets to it he stops at his desk to check his email and Facebook one last time before bed. He isn’t expecting anything, so when he sees one new email in his inbox it’s a shock. 

When he sees who it is from, he nearly falls to the floor. 

City of Lima Registry Service. Match Results.

Of course he knows that the phrase ‘match letter’ was an antiquated relic and most match results were sent via email these days. But no one he knows has ever received their match on the same day they’ve registered. It’s unheard of. They have to check the local system first, and then the county, the state, the country--

It hits Kurt like a ton of bricks what this could mean. His soulmate is close. Really, really close. They found him ridiculously fast. 

He’s not sure he can open it. He has to open it. 

What if it’s not a he? What if it is just a platonic bond?

What if it’s someone he hates?

His finger clicks on it before his brain can do any more damage. He braces himself, but the page that opens is mostly legalese and introduction. There’s no name anywhere. With a sigh of frustration he scrolls down until he finds the section he’s looking for. 

He feels like he’s going to fall apart into a thousand pieces. 

Match: Blaine Devon Anderson, Lima, Ohio. Age 17.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt barely sleeps at all that night. He has no idea what to do with this information. The pamphlets he received are no help--they all talk about how to make first contact with your soulmate via the provided contact information in the results notification. Not one piece of information he received tells him what to do when your soulmate is someone you know, and they definitely don’t address how to handle it when your soulmate is your school’s badass. 

Kurt dreams of motorcycles and leather and the smell of smoke and his father’s disapproval. 

In the morning, Kurt dresses for school and makes his way into the building before he realizes he has no plan in place for how to handle this. And when he sees Blaine at the far end of the hall it hits him--Blaine probably received the same email. Blaine knows. He isn’t ready to talk to him, so Kurt ducks into the first door he comes across. 

“Kurt?” Emma says with surprise. “Is there something I can help you with?”  
“No,” Kurt says, before glancing out the door and seeing that Blaine has gotten even closer. “Actually, yes.”

“Oh, okay,” Emma says happily. “What would you like to discuss?”

“College?” Kurt says, his voice turning up at the end. “Yes, college. Let’s talk colleges.”

“All right,” Emma says, now eyeing him warily. “I was under the impression that you had a few musical theatre schools you were looking at…”

“Yes, I do,” Kurt says, moving over to take a seat. “But I was thinking that maybe--”

There’s a knock on the door just before it swings open. Kurt looks back and is completely unsurprised to see Blaine there, hanging on Emma’s door frame. His hair is gelled a little spikier than usual, and he’s clad in a white tank top and a half-zipped, heather blue hoodie. 

“Hey Ms. Pillsbury,” Blaine says, swinging into the office like he owns it.

“Oh hey, Blaine,” Emma says brightly, gesturing to the table next to her. “I’ve got that whole stack ready for you.”

“Sweet,” Blaine says, reaching for a pile of paperwork. “I’ll get out of your way then.” He looks at Kurt as he turns back around; his eyes are unreadable. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Blaine Anderson,” he says in response, and Blaine’s mouth ticks up at the corners. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Blaine says, sliding right back out the door. 

“Sorry about that,” Emma says, turning back to Kurt. “Blaine helps me out with filing on Wednesdays. You were saying?”

“He’s my soulmate,” Kurt says before he can stop himself. Emma blinks.

“I’m sorry, what?” she says, tilting her head. Kurt shakes his own, still unable to fully process how his life has changed in 24 hours. 

“I got my mark yesterday,” Kurt says, the words pouring out of him. “I got my mark, and I went right to the registration office, and when I got to school I ran into Blaine and we talked for probably the first time ever in our lives, really, and then I go home and I’m getting ready for bed and there’s an email and they already have my results and it’s him. It’s Blaine Devon Anderson of Lima, Ohio.”

“Kurt, are you okay?” Emma asks. Kurt shakes his head. 

“I don’t know,” Kurt says. “I don’t even know if he knows yet. I don’t even know what to say to him.”

“Blaine? Blaine’s lovely,” Emma says. “He’s the only one I trust with my filing because he’s so organized.”

“He’s organized?” Kurt says, feeling lost. “Blaine Anderson?”

“He’s an excellent student,” Emma says. “He’s already taken the SATs and is planning on trying for early admission to NYU.”

“Are you supposed to be telling me all of this about another student?” Kurt says, sniffling slightly. He’s about to cry, he can tell. 

“Well, he’s not just another student, is he?” Emma says with a smile. “He’s your soulmate.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt says, standing up. He feels lightheaded. “I can’t do this.”

“Kurt, sit down, take a deep breath--” but Kurt is already out the door. He’s heading toward the boy’s bathroom on the first floor but he barely clears Emma’s office door when an elbow checks him right into the wall. He crumples to the ground. 

“What the actual fuck is your problem?” Kurt hears a voice shout, and he is completely unsurprised when he realizes it’s Blaine. Blaine, who is out of the filing room like a shot and after the jock who pushed him. Blaine, his scrappy guardian angel. Blaine--his soulmate. 

Blaine has the jock by the collar, and though the jock is a head taller than Blaine, Kurt is pretty sure Blaine could win this fight. The jock seems pretty sure, too, and he scrambles to get away from Blaine’s grip. Blaine turns back to Kurt then, coming over to help him up. 

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks, lifting Kurt easily to his feet. Kurt looks him in the eye for what might be the first time, really. Blaine’s eyes are as honeyed as his voice, surrounded by thick lashes so dense and long Kurt feels stuck in them. 

“Do you wear eyeliner?” Kurt asks breathlessly, and Blaine laughs a full, real belly laugh. 

“Sometimes,” Blaine admits. “But not today.” He looks at Kurt more seriously. “Did you hit your head?”

“No,” Kurt says, swallowing hard. “Did you check your email?”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Blaine asks, before brushing Kurt’s bangs back from his forehead. This time, there is a definite tingle. Kurt’s sure of it. “Because you’re looking a little woozy, and the questions you’re asking are a little wacky.”

“My head is fine,” Kurt says. “Did you check your email?”

“Not since yesterday,” Blaine says. “I’m not a big technology person.” He narrows his eyes, his mouth curving into a slight smirk. “Kurt Hummel, did you send me an email?”

“No,” Kurt says. “No, not me.”

“Maybe we should get you back into Emma’s office,” Blaine says, now looking seriously concerned. “You should sit down--”

“You should check your email,” Kurt says, stepping out of Blaine’s grip. “Check your email, and then come and find me if you want to talk.”

“You’re freaking me out,” Blaine calls after him, but Kurt doesn’t stop. He walks all the way to the men’s room and locks himself in the handicapped stall. He plans to stay there for the rest of the day.

He can’t, of course, because within five minutes Artie is there, requiring the use of the stall. 

“Blaine Anderson is looking for you, dude,” he says as he rolls into the stall. Kurt has no idea what to do now. 

He pushes the door open and slides out into the hall, joining the throngs of students moving like a wave in one direction. Maybe he can get to class before Blaine finds him. Maybe Blaine doesn’t really want to find him--maybe Artie was wrong. Maybe--

“Check your email?” he hears a voice say, and he knows it too well already. He pulls to a stop, much to the annoyance of the students walking with him. He turns around to see Blaine staring at him, a look on his face like Kurt has never seen before in his life. It’s equal parts amused, fondly exasperated, fascination and something else--something almost like joy. Blaine shakes his head and steps closer to Kurt. “Man, I don’t know what I expected out of getting my match result but it certainly wasn’t my soulmate telling me to check my email before running away.”

“I’m sorry?” Kurt says, his voice squeaking just a bit. Blaine just grins even more. 

“God, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine breathes out seconds before leaning in and taking Kurt’s face in his hands. Kurt’s heart is going to beat right out of his chest--Blaine is going to kiss him. 

But he doesn’t. Kurt blinks his eyes open. “What’s wrong?”

“I just--can I kiss you?” Blaine asks, looking worried. “I don’t want to presume--”

“Yes,” Kurt says, because any other resolution right now would be an utterly shattering disappointment. Blaine grins, and takes Kurt’s mouth with his. 

It’s nothing like Kurt could’ve ever expected. He’d expected explosions, bursts of energy shattering the air around them. It’s not that. It’s warm, soft, safe. It feels like--

“Like coming home,” Kurt says when their lips separate. Blaine looks happier than Kurt has ever seen him. Blaine’s hands are still cupping Kurt’s head; his fingers are working through Kurt’s hair like a soothing balm. 

“I was hoping it would be you,” Blaine breathes. “Is that crazy?”

“You were?” Kurt says, completely flabbergasted. Blaine nods, then bites his lip. His face is soft like this, open. Kurt feels like he’s literally never seen Blaine Anderson before. Kurt can’t even wrap his head around this. Any of it.

“Ok, break it up, ladies,” Sue Sylvester’s voice sounds then, breaking into Kurt’s reverie. It is only then that Kurt realizes that the entire hallway has stopped around them to watch their interaction. He flushes deep and warm. “Get to class, you gawking rubberneckers.” The crowds around them begin to disperse as Sue turns her gaze back to them. “Hummel and Anderson. I never expected.”

Blaine’s hand slips from Kurt’s hair, and Kurt mourns the loss. It’s quickly replaced, though, by the warmth of Blaine’s hand in his. “Sorry, Coach,” Blaine says, gripping Kurt’s fingers tightly. “Didn’t mean to rile the people up.”

“Keep the intense games of tonsil hockey outta the halls, Fonzie, you’re gonna make us all lose our lunch,” Sue continues. “And you, Porcelain. I always pegged you were the romantic type. What would your soulmate think of you giving it up to the high school greaseball?”

Blaine’s posture tenses, and Kurt feels him move closer to Sue. It takes a second for him to realize that Blaine has positioned himself between Kurt and Sue. 

“His soulmate is just fine with it, but thank you for your concern,” Blaine says. Sue blinks at him, then smirks. His meaning is not lost on her. 

“Well, well,” Sue says. “This is unexpected.” Kurt expects more harassment from Coach Sylvester--she is, after all, the only person he knows without a soulmate (her marking, she claims, is her own fingerprint, and she has a framed match letter to prove it)--but nothing comes. Instead, she glances down the hallway before looking back at them. 

“If two newly matched youth were to slip out the door at the back of the gym undetected in order to go enjoy their first day together as new soulmates,” Sue says then, dropping her voice. “Well, no one could really blame them. Especially not if it managed to not be recorded in their record for some reason.”

Blaine grins. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Sue nods. “Now get out of my sight.”

Blaine tugs lightly on Kurt’s hand and Kurt lets him lead them down the hall to the gym. It’s empty this period, just like Sue suggested, and Blaine knows exactly which door to head to for their escape. When Blaine props the door open with his hip, Kurt sees Blaine’s motorcycle in the distance, parked in a corner of the lot. He begins to panic. 

“Wait,” Kurt says, pulling back. Blaine lets his fingers go, looking at Kurt with concern. “I can’t just skip class.”

“Uh, sure you can,” Blaine says, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You heard Coach. She’s got us covered.”

“No, I just--I have homework,” Kurt says, though for the life of him he can’t remember if this is actually true. “And glee. And--”

“I’ll have you back in time for glee,” Blaine says, letting the door swing shut and taking a step closer to Kurt. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’ve never skipped class before,” Kurt admits. Blaine grins. 

“Then this is the perfect time to try it out,” Blaine says, reaching for Kurt’s hand once more. “These are extenuating circumstances, Kurt Hummel. Everyone will understand.”

It occurs to Kurt then, as Blaine’s hand finds his once more, that this moment is the one he’s been waiting for. All of his romantic fantasies and Power Ranger weddings come down to this--a boy with his fingerprint seared into his skin, holding out his hand for Kurt to take. Blaine’s fingers are already a part of Kurt’s skin, and Kurt’s have been a part of Blaine’s for 3 years already. 

“I’m not getting on your bike,” is what he says. Blaine laughs, a warm, bubbling sound. Something like relief passes over his face. 

“Okay,” Blaine agrees. “We’ll take that beast of a car you have instead.”

“Deal,” Kurt says, and follows Blaine outside. 

Once they’re in the car, however, Kurt begins to second guess this whole thing. He’s in the driver’s seat--literally--which makes him feel a little more comfortable, but he has no idea what Blaine is expecting out of this afternoon. They’re soulmates--he’d kissed him in the hallway--was Blaine thinking he was going to...put out?

“If it’s all right with you,” Blaine begins as he snaps his seat belt locked, and the movement pulls Kurt back out of his head. 

“You’re wearing your seatbelt,” Kurt says. Blaine furrows his brow. 

“Yes,” Blaine says, drawing the word out. “I was under the impression that was what people did in cars. I mean, granted, I’m usually on my bike so I might be a little bit behind the times.”

“Don’t you want to like, stick it to the man?” Kurt says, the words feeling stupid to his own ears. Blaine settles back against the door so he can watch Kurt. An amused smile plays on his face. “Fuck the police?”

“Get thrown through a windshield?” Blaine supplies, and Kurt sputters a bit. “Yeah, see, I just found my soulmate. I’d like to live long enough to get to know him better.”

“I’m a good driver,” Kurt says. “There will be no throwing through windshields of any kind.”

“Well, very good,” Blaine says. “Let us drive, then. I have someplace I’d like to take you.”

Kurt swallows back his nerves and puts the Navigator into reverse. He doubts very seriously that destiny chose to pair him with a serial killer, and he resolves to put a little more trust in the man that fate has selected for him.

That trust becomes a little shaky, however, when Blaine directs him to the industrial side of town, where there isn’t much besides a couple factories and warehouses.

“You can just pull up over there,” Blaine says, pointing toward a parking lot that doesn’t seem to have any cars in it--or any pavement. “Anywhere is fine.” 

“Is this safe?” Kurt asks ask he puts the car into park. Blaine scoffs. 

“Yeah, totally,” Blaine says, as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “It’s still Lima, Ohio, Kurt. Besides, the crack district is totally the other way.”

“Haha,” Kurt says, before moving to unbuckle his own seatbelt. By the time he’s done, Blaine has already left the car and made it around to open Kurt’s door for him. He’s grinning in the morning sun, holding out a hand to help Kurt out. 

“Sorry,” Blaine says as Kurt’s feet reach the earth. “I’ve kinda always wanted to do that for somebody.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kurt says, grinning himself. Blaine’s hand already feels so comfortable in his. Blaine gives a small tug on his hand and Kurt finds himself following Blaine into the warehouse they’re parked beside. It is just as dark and empty as it seemed from the outside. 

“Hang on,” Blaine says, giving Kurt’s hand a small squeeze before running into a small room adjacent to the side of the main open space. There’s the sound of a surge of electricity and then lights begin flickering to life around him. The space is more lived in than it seemed in the dark: there’s a corner with a large exercise mat and a heavy bag hanging over it; there’s even a makeshift kitchen with a couple dorm-sized fridges, a microwave, and a coffeemaker. 

There are two parts that really catch Kurt’s attention, however--the first of which is a giant bit of scaffolding near the back, topped with a couple unrecognizable machines. 

“Foam machines,” Blaine explains when he sees him looking. “Relics from an earlier time. I came in after school one day and found these prep school boys setting up for some weird pseudo-sexual performance for some private school girls. I told them I wouldn’t bother threatening to call the cops, I’d just kick all their asses, and they left in a hurry.”

“Threatening innocent youth?” Kurt says, surprising himself with the coy, teasing tone in his voice. Blaine holds up his hands. 

“They broke into my property!” Blaine says, a laugh on the back of his words. “I am pretty sure I was well within my rights.”

“How is this your property, exactly?” Kurt asks, glancing back around.

“Technically, it’s my dad’s,” Blaine admits. “But he can’t sell it and me hanging out here serves us both well. We fight a lot less now. Of course, that could just be because I’m home a lot less. Either way, home life is much happier.”

“It’s very urban chic,” Kurt says, because he has no idea what to do with the large parcel of information that Blaine has just handed him. He walks over to the center of the space. There’s a large rug spread out there, old and dusty, and several paint-splattered and bent folding chairs. There’s a drum set, a piano, a handful of stringed instruments on various racks. There are a couple of microphones as well, and some amps. Kurt’s embarrassed by how long it takes him to string the items together into a coherent thought. 

“You play music?” Kurt asks, turning back to look Blaine in the face. Blaine nods. 

“I do,” he admits. “It’s kind of my thing.”

“But you’re not--” Kurt frowns, his brain still on overload after the day he’s had. “You’re not in glee, or even in band--”

“Just because I’m not into school-sanctioned, group activities doesn’t mean that I’m not into music,” Blaine says, running his fingers over the back of the piano. “I love music. It’s been--well, it’s my constant. It’s always there for me. Even when people aren’t.”

Kurt isn’t sure why that stings as much as it does. Blaine, purses his lips before tugging them in between his teeth and looking at the ground.

“Do you want a beer?” Blaine asks then. “I could kinda use one.” Blaine moves over to the makeshift kitchen, effectively turning his back on Kurt. 

“I don’t drink,” Kurt says. “I did, once, but...Besides, it’s not even noon, yet.”

“Coffee, then,” Blaine says, grabbing the bag of beans off the counter.

“Did I say something to upset you?” Kurt asks, feeling a little blindsided. Blaine stops moving. 

“No,” he says. “This is just all kind of overwhelming. Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way.”

“I do,” Kurt says, watching the muscles twitch in Blaine’s shoulders as he continues the coffee preparations. 

“I don’t let a lot of people in here,” Blaine says, and Kurt isn’t sure whether he means the warehouse or something more metaphorical. “Even the guys I play with, I usually just place an ad on Craig’s List for musicians every so often. I don’t have a band, really. It’s just me. It’s usually just me.”

“I know how that is,” Kurt says. Blaine chuckles. 

“Do you?” he turns to face Kurt. “I see you in school all the time, with your club. You guys are attached at the hip.”

“Most of the time we’re tearing each other’s throats out,” Kurt says. “It’s hardly a cuddly, welcoming bunch.”

“Sure fooled me,” Blaine says, moving to grab water from the water cooler situated next to the counter. 

“Besides, that’s one year of my life,” Kurt says. “The other 16 have all be pretty much just me, I assure you.”

“Well at least you didn’t have to spend three years wondering if you were destined to be alone, despite the mark on your skin,” Blaine says, all of his attention on the coffee maker. “You didn’t even have to wait a day.”

“Are you mad at me because I didn’t hit puberty until I was a senior in high school?” Kurt says, his voice turning shrill. “Because believe me, I would rather have done this earlier, too.”

There’s a moment where they both fall silent; another moment where the absurdity of their argument hits them both at once. Blaine’s shoulders begin to shake, silently; Kurt can’t help it--he lets out a giggle. Soon they’re both laughing in gasping, heaving chuckles. 

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine says, putting the coffee maker together and making his way over to Kurt. “I’m an asshole, I didn’t want that to come out like that, I’m not mad--”

“I’m sorry I’m a late bloomer,” Kurt says through gasps of laughter. 

“No, don’t apologize, you’re perfect,” Blaine says, and then his arms are around Kurt’s waist and he’s kissing him for all he’s worth. 

Kurt has only ever kissed Brittany before, and he’s grateful for her lessons now. Blaine doesn’t taste like root beer at all--in fact, he mostly doesn’t taste like anything that Kurt can describe. He’s too focused on how it feels to pay too much attention to picking out the nuances of flavor on Blaine’s tongue. He’s terrified he’s doing it wrong, but it feels really, really good, and Blaine is moving closer, holding him tighter. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Blaine says as he pulls back, breathing heavily. “For so long, Kurt.”

“Three years, I know,” Kurt says, but Blaine shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean you,” Blaine sighs, running his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “You, Kurt, not some soulmate I didn’t know. Since I transferred to McKinley last year.”

“What are you talking about?” Kurt says. Blaine ducks in to press another kiss on Kurt’s lips. 

“I saw you my first day,” Blaine says. “You were wearing a knee length sweater and these boots, your fucking boots, Kurt. I couldn’t look at anyone else. And then that asshole shoved you into that locker and I just exploded. Everything that--” Blaine pauses--”I’ll tell you about everything that happened before later. But it was just there, and that shove was like--it set me on fire. I had gotten into lots of fights by that point, but I had never kicked anyone’s ass like that before.”

“My scrappy guardian angel,” Kurt says, and Blaine blinks up at him with huge, shining eyes. “That’s what I used to call you in my head.”

“I guess I was,” Blaine says, chuckling. “I was drawn to you even then.”

“So why didn’t you--” Kurt begins to say, but he doesn’t know how to finish it. Blaine shakes his head. 

“So many reasons,” Blaine replies, as if he knows Kurt’s unasked question already. “You weren’t my soulmate.”

“But I am,” Kurt says. Blaine nods.

“But I didn’t know that, and the chances that you could be were so small, and I couldn’t,” Blaine says. “But I am so, so glad you are.”

Blaine kisses him one more time, soft and gentle. “Go have a seat on the--” Blaine frowns slightly, as if he’s seeing the warehouse for the first time. “Well, I guess on the scaffolding? I need to do something about the lack of seating options in here.”

“Scaffolding is fine,” Kurt says, though he doesn’t mean it. It makes Blaine smile, though, and that’s enough for him. 

“I’ll bring the coffee right over,” Blaine says, before scurrying back off to the makeshift kitchen. Kurt heads over to the scaffolding and perches on the edge. He watches Blaine work, pouring cups of coffee and grabbing sugar and creamer from the fridge below him. He has a tray, a small plastic tray, and he’s filling it up like he’s an over-enthusiastic waiter. Now that Kurt is seeing him in his element, it’s shocking to remember that even this morning he found Blaine Anderson terrifying. 

“I didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just brought some of everything,” Blaine says as he brings the tray over. His cheeks are a little flushed, and he seems boyish in his efforts to please. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” Kurt says, and Blaine just looks up, eyes wide. 

“What?”

“You said you were glad I’m your soulmate,” Kurt says, stuttering slightly, the words still a little foreign on his tongue. “I’m glad you’re mine, too.”

“Kurt,” Blaine sighs, the look on his face almost reverent. Blaine shoves the tray carrying coffee onto the scaffolding a distance away from them, and Kurt is confused for a moment until the weight of Blaine’s body is suddenly on him, warm and heavy. Blaine settles himself into Kurt’s lap, and it’s so overwhelming that all Kurt can manage to do is lie back, letting his body accommodate Blaine’s showing of affection. He’s kissing Kurt, again, and it’s already familiar and wonderful. But this kiss is different--it’s more aggressive, asking for something Kurt doesn’t know how to give. Blaine’s hands are more active, too, no longer content to cradle Kurt’s head gently. Now they seek purchase on the back of Kurt’s neck, or along his sides. Kurt is completely utterly overwhelmed. 

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” Kurt says, as he pulls his lips away from Blaine’s. Blaine blinks at him, almost sleepily. 

“What?” Blaine asks. Kurt pushes, gently, at his shoulders, and Blaine rolls to his side. 

“Right now, I mean,” Kurt says. “Here. I’m not--”

“No, Kurt, I wasn’t thinking you would,” Blaine says. “I wouldn’t--I wouldn’t bring you here if that’s what I was expecting, for one, there are rats--”

“There are rats?” Kurt says, pushing against his hands against the metal underneath him. “Why didn’t you tell me there are rats?”

“Not a lot of rats!” Blaine says, looking affronted. “But a couple here or there.”

“Why do you come here if there are rats?” Kurt says, looking around for the offending creatures. 

“Well, first it was a great place to hold fight club,” Blaine says, sitting up. “Which I can’t say anymore about so don’t even try.”

“Fight club,” Kurt repeats. Blaine shrugs. 

“And maybe a couple flash mob practices,” he says, moving for the coffee tray. “There are things in my past.”

“Flash mobs in your past?” Kurt says, a burst of joy filling him. Blaine busies himself once more with the coffee. 

“I used to perform in theme parks,” Blaine says. “You of all people can’t judge me for that.”

Blaine hands Kurt his mug then, and Kurt gladly takes it. There’s cinnamon on the tray in addition to sugar and creamer, and Blaine goes for that first when doctoring his own cup. 

“There is so much I don’t know about you,” Kurt says, reaching for some sugar himself. Blaine flushes. 

“I would hope so,” he says. Blaine looks up from his cup, meeting Kurt’s eyes with a bit of a challenge in his own. “I hope that doesn’t scare you off.”

Kurt smiles, thinking over everything he’s learned so far. “Not at all.”


	4. Chapter 4

They spend the rest of the day together. After coffee at the warehouse, Blaine takes Kurt downtown to a part of Lima Kurt’s never spent much time in, save for the vintage clothing store at the end of the block. There’s a coffee shop that advertises live music (“I play there sometimes,” Blaine says in passing), a used record shop where all the employees know Blaine by name, and a tattoo shop with a guy out front smoking who knows him, too. 

“Do you have tattoos?” Kurt says, looking at Blaine in surprise. Blaine smiles a small, private smile and looks to the ground. 

“One,” he replies. “You’ll see it sometime.”

Kurt flushes warm with how sure Blaine is of that. Because of course he is--they’re meant to be together. Nothing save death or a tremendous breach of trust and destiny will come between them. Everywhere they go, Blaine keeps Kurt’s hand in his as he introduces him. 

“This is Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says, smiling at Kurt. “My soulmate.”

The people they meet seem as surprised at Blaine as Kurt feels. This Blaine, this friendly, soft Blaine, is clearly as unfamiliar to them as it is to him. The realization that he’s the reason that Blaine is like this is overwhelming and wonderful at the same time. 

It’s the perfect day, and by the time they get back to school for glee, Kurt doesn’t want it to end. 

“It seems wrong,” Kurt says as he puts the car into park. “To just say goodbye now and go about the rest of my life like nothing’s changed.”

“Nobody said you have to act like nothing’s changed,” Blaine says, leaning in and taking Kurt’s hand. “Things have definitely changed for us. For the better, but still. They’re different.”

“I just don’t want to say goodbye to you,” Kurt says, and Blaine leans in and kisses the words from his lips.

“Don’t think of it as goodbye,” Blaine says. “You’ll text me when you’re done and we’ll go from there.”

“My dad is going to want to meet you,” Kurt says, and Blaine grins.  
“Ahh, but luckily, I want to meet your dad,” Blaine says as he slides back closer to the door and opens it. “Bet you never thought I’d say that.”

“You’re not really a bad boy at all, are you?” Kurt says. Blaine winks as he holds up a finger to his lips, a seductive silencing if Kurt’s ever seen one. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” Blaine says, letting the door swing shut behind him. Kurt takes a moment to catch his breath before he too exits the car. Blaine is already on his bike, strapping on his helmet. Kurt takes a moment to admire the sinewy way his muscles work through the thick layers of sweatshirt and jeans. He hasn’t fully let himself appreciate it until now, but fate has really handed Kurt a soulmate with an exceedingly attractive package. 

Blaine revs the engine as if for show and sets it in motion. He circles around the wrong way in the lot from the exit before correcting his course. His route takes him right up to Kurt and Blaine leans in close and loops once more around Kurt before taking off at full speed. 

Kurt braces himself as he walks into the school, uncertain of what he expects. He’s never skipped school before at all, certainly not after he’s just made out with the school’s resident bad boy. Sue had sanctioned the move, of course, but who knows if that sanctioning actually meant anything in the long run. 

Plus he is going to have to deal with the fallout from a likely jealous Rachel Berry. Less than a day after her soulmate dreams had come crashing down around her he’d found his walking the same halls they did. Rachel would be inconsolable. 

Kurt pushes open the door to Glee, expecting a wall of noise to come hurtling in his direction. He’s not disappointed. It takes him a minute, though, to realize that it’s not aimed at him. 

There is a blond boy with enormous lips standing next to Schue, staring hard at Mercedes, who has her arms crossed. Everyone is talking over each other. Kurt takes advantage of the din to slide into the seat next to Quinn. 

“What in the world is happening?” he asks. Quinn just looks bored. 

“That’s Sam Evans,” she replies. “Mercedes’ soulmate.”

Kurt blinks at the boy and recognizes him, finally. He’s seen pictures--Mercedes has shown him some of the ones they’ve shared with each other over the past year. He just never expected to see him here, in Lima. 

“I thought they’d agreed not to meet up until after graduation?” Kurt asks. Quinn picks at a cuticle. 

“So did Mercedes,” she answers. 

“OK, enough!” Mercedes says loudly. The rest of the room settles into silence. “Thank you, but this isn’t any of the rest of your concern, okay? This is between me and Sam.”

“I just wanted to--” Sam gestures to the guitar next to him. “Can I sing this song for you?”

“No,” Mercedes says, shaking her head. “You are going to leave right now. Head down the street to the Lima Bean and I will call you when I am done here. Can you at least respect my wishes on that?”

“Mercedes--”

“No, Sam,” Mercedes says. “Please just go.”

Sam nods, says “I’m sorry,” and turns around to exit the room. Mr. Schue looks wide-eyed and a little baffled on how to proceed. 

“Okay, then,” he says, clapping his hands together. “That’s a pretty great transition into our lesson for the week, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Schue,” Santana says, raising her hand above her head. “I think we should begin by asking Lady Hummel about his afternoon, since it wasn’t spent in school.”

Rachel spins around in her chair, eyeing Kurt with suspicion. “There you are,” she says, a bit shrill. “Where were you? People were saying the weirdest things, Kurt, but I told them that it wasn’t possible that you made out with Blaine Anderson in the hallway--”

“Uh, I saw it happen,” Puck says then, leaning over, to hold out his fist to Kurt. “Pound it, dude, that guy’s even more of a badass than moi.”

Kurt ignores Puck’s overture, meeting Rachel’s gaze. “It isn’t any of your business, Rachel--”

“You were licking the guy’s tonsils in the hallway,” Santana says then. “You made it everybody’s business.”

“You just got your mark, Kurt,” Rachel cuts in. “I would’ve understood if you had done this before, because of loneliness and a need to belong--no one would’ve blamed you for acting out. But now you know there’s someone out there for you and you choose to act out with him?”

“I didn’t even know he liked unicorns,” Brittany says, turning to Santana, who shrugs. 

“Not surprising to me, that guy wears tighter pants than even Hummel,” Santana says. 

“Maybe it’s because he just got his mark,” Finn says, looking up at Kurt like he’s just seen him for the first time. Kurt wonders how sometimes his dopey almost-stepbrother can be so insightful. His eyes are wide. “It is, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about, puffy nips?” Santana says. “He just got his mark yesterday.”

“My uncle got his match on the same day,” Mike says as he squeezes Tina’s arm. “It’s not unheard of.”

Suddenly everyone in the room is looking at Kurt. He swallows hard. 

“Can we go back to talking about Sam?” Kurt says, looking at Mercedes who begins shaking her head at him. “What was he doing here?”

“Boy, don’t you dare put this back on me,” Mercedes says. “What is up with you and Blaine Anderson? You’ve never even spoken to him and now you’re macking on him?”

“Now that we’re talking about it, Anderson did always seem to be there whenever someone was harassing Hummel,” Santana says, her face a picture of unadulterated joy. “Oh my god, Hummel, is Badassderson your soulmate?” 

“Yes!” Kurt says loudly. His outburst silences the whole room. “Yes, okay? Blaine Anderson is my soulmate. I got the match results last night.”

“You’re lying,” Rachel says, her voice shaking. “You’re lying. People don’t get matches in the same school, Santana said it yesterday--”

“I said rarely,” Santana clarifies, looking at Kurt with something akin to awe. Rachel stands up, smoothes her skirt, and throws her hair over her shoulder before bounding out the door at full speed. 

“Damn, Hummel,” Puck says. “You must be more of a badass than I realized.”

“Or Blaine is less of a badass than he likes to pretend,” Santana says, smirking a bit. “Which is it, Hummel?”

“Can we please continue with our lesson and stop talking about this?”

“I couldn’t agree more, Kurt,” Mr. Schue says. “Who wants to go first?”

Puck hops up immediately, grabbing a guitar on his way down to the front. He launches into a song that was popular more than a decade ago about not waiting for your soulmate when there are so many ladies in the world to try. Mercedes turns to look at Kurt part way through the song. He meets her eyes, but she says nothing. 

After Puck sings, Mr. Schue lets them leave for the day. Rachel has not returned, so Finn heads off to try and find her. Mercedes comes to stand in front of Kurt. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he says lightly, hoping he’s not pushing too far. Mercedes rolls her eyes.

“In a second,” she says, crossing her arms across her chest. “Which is it?”

“What?” Kurt says, completely confused by her question. “Which is what?”

“Are you more of a bad ass than we realized, or is he less?” Mercedes asks. Kurt huffs out a laugh. 

“I don’t--neither, I guess?” Kurt says, looking to make sure Santana isn’t listening in. “I don’t--he’s less, I guess.”

“You guess?” Mercedes raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know what you’re asking, really,” Kurt says.

“I just want to make sure he’s good enough for you,” Mercedes says. 

“Isn’t that supposed to be guaranteed?” Kurt says. “I thought that’s what soulmates meant.”

“No, Kurt,” Mercedes says with a sigh. “Soulmates are two parts of a whole, but that doesn’t mean the whole is a good whole. You know there are bad matches out there. Look at Coach Beiste.”

Kurt shakes his head at Mercedes concern. “That’s rare, though.”

“Still,” Mercedes says. “I worry about you.”

“You should worry about yourself,” Kurt says, and he’s not sure why he’s being quite so defensive about her questions. Blaine is a good guy; he can tell this already. Her words, and her actions toward Sam earlier, though, have got him feeling a little twitchy. “Since you’re the one with a soulmate waiting in a coffeeshop that you’re blowing off.”

“I’m not blowing him off,” Mercedes says, her voice getting louder. “I’m giving myself some time to cool down before I say something I regret, which is maybe something you should consider doing right now.”

“Maybe you should have considered it before you stuck your nose in someone else’s business instead of dealing with your own,” Kurt says just as loudly, standing up. The rest of the group still in the choir room is looking at them now, but Kurt doesn’t care. “But I guess since you’re used to being controlling with your own soulmatch that it’s hard to not be controlling with someone else’s.”

“Don’t turn my concern around and--” Mercedes stops talking before holding up her hands. “You know what, fine. Forget I said anything.”

“I will,” Kurt says, grabbing his bag. He heads out the door and to his Navigator without a second look. When he reaches his car, he hits the unlock on the key fob and opens the passenger door to throw his bag in the back. As he does so, he notices something unusual catching the sun on his windshield. He closes the door and moves around to the front of his car. 

It’s a yellow rose with red tips. He removes it safely without damaging the stem and holds it close to his face, inhaling. 

He and Blaine had exchanged contact information that afternoon, so he takes out his phone and sends off his first text to him. 

_I assume this surprise on my windshield is from you?_ he writes. Blaine’s message comes back pretty quickly. 

**_Are you sure it wasn’t from a squirrel?_** Kurt chuckles, before taking a picture of himself holding the rose. 

_A squirrel with excellent taste, I suppose,_ he sends with it. 

_**Should I be jealous of this squirrel?**_ Blaine writes back. Then, almost immediately: **_You are so gorgeous._**

_Stop it,_ Kurt sends. 

_**No I’m serious,**_ Blaine sends back. **_Like, I don’t know what I did right in my previous lives to land a soulmate like you but I fucking lucked out._**

_So did I, apparently,_ Kurt writes, _to land a sweet talker like you._

**_Can I see you tonight? Blaine writes. ** _Or is that too forward?_**_ **

_I have to go home first,_ Kurt responds. _I have to tell my dad about the developments in my life since he saw me last._

**_Tell him I’m available for a parental meet-and-greet this evening,_** Blaine says. **_That’s how much I want to see you._**

Kurt grins at his phone, types _We’ll see,_ hits send, then pockets it. It isn’t a long drive to his house from school, and he’s not getting home any later than he ordinarily would, so he’s pretty surprised to see his dad’s truck in the driveway when he gets there. He puts the Navigator into park, bracing himself for something, he’s not sure what. 

His dad is sitting at the table when he walks in. He has a bottle of light beer open in front of him, and he’s rubbing his hand repeatedly over his head. 

“Are you okay, Dad?” Kurt says, going for nonchalance and likely failing. Burt lifts his head and fixes his eyes on Kurt. 

“Well, I tell ya, Kurt,” Burt says, leaning back in his chair. “This was not the day I was expecting to have.”

“What happened?” Kurt asks, sliding into the chair opposite of Burt. Maybe Burt’s mood has nothing to do with him at all. Maybe he had a bad day at the shop. Maybe--

“Well, first off--is there something you wanna tell me?” Burt says, spreading his hands on the table. 

“Oh,” Kurt says, unsure of where to begin. 

“Yeah, oh,” Burt replies. “I get a call this afternoon telling me you’re missing class, then another call right after telling me to ignore the first call and that everything’s fine. So I think, just a mix up, go about my business. But then I get a call from Carole a couple hours later, and she’s with Finn and Rachel at their house and Rachel is in tears because Kurt’s found his soulmate? So then I try calling you but you don’t answer--”

Shit, Kurt thinks, checking his phone. There it is, a handful of missed calls and voicemails from his dad. He hadn’t even noticed, he’d been so wrapped up in Blaine. 

“--So I call Carole back, she says something about you skipping school to hang out with your soulmate who is apparently some kinda punk?” Burt reaches for his beer, takes a long swig. “I tell ya Kurt, I don’t even know where to begin here. You just got your mark yesterday for cryin’ out loud.”

“I know,” Kurt says, exhaling deeply. He’s still kind of reeling himself, truth be told. “And I got my results last night just before bed.”

Burt lets out a long, low whistle. “And he’s from your school?” Kurt nods. “Did you know him? Before?”

“Not really,” Kurt says with a sigh. Everything in his body feels different. This conversation feels different from any conversation he’s ever had with his dad somehow. More adult. Things have changed so much in 24 hours. 

“What’s this Carole was sayin’ about his reputation?” Burt says, and Kurt can tell it’s taking everything in him to act so calm about the subject. “He a bad kid?”

“No,” Kurt says, and it surprises him how honestly he means it. “He’s not a bad kid. He’s a good kid, actually. He just has some--affectations.”

“Affectations?” Burt repeats. “Is that a fancy way of saying he has a bad attitude?”

“It means he wears leather and rides a motorcycle and gets into fights,” Kurt says, laying it all out there. “But the fights are with people who deserve it because they’re assholes, dad. Mostly he keeps to himself and yes, I always thought he was a little...intimidating. But he’s not. He does volunteer work for the guidance counselor, for crying out loud.”

“Sure it’s not community service?” Burt asks, and Kurt rolls his eyes. “What? I’m just checking.”

“Even if it is,” Kurt says clearly. “He’s been nothing but wonderful to me.”

“Since you found out, ya mean?” Burt asks. Kurt shakes his head. 

“Since forever,” Kurt answers. “And to prove it to you, he wants to come over tonight to meet you.”

“He wants to?” Burt says, raising his eyebrow. “Sure you didn’t put him up to that?”

“Not at all,” Kurt says, feeling his cheeks grow pink at the memory. “He said, and I quote, ‘tell him I’m available for a parental meet-and-greet this evening.’”

“Oh, Christ,” Burt says, taking another pull of beer. “Tomorrow, okay? Give your old man a night to come to terms with this.”

Kurt bounces in his chair, clapping his hands in delight. “I’ll ask him for dinner.”

“Whatever,” Burt says, standing up. “I’m gonna go watch some tv.”

Kurt pulls his phone out immediately and texts Blaine. _No go on tonight, I’m afraid._

**_:(((,_** is Blaine’s response. 

_You are invited to dinner at Chez Hummel tomorrow evening, however, Kurt responds._

**_I suppose I can wait until then,_** Blaine answers. _ **I’ll see you in school before then, anyway.** _

Kurt pauses. He hasn’t considered what their school day is going to be like. 

**_Did I say something wrong?_** Blaine texts. 

_No, nothing wrong,_ Kurt types. _I’ll see you in school._


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt dresses even more carefully the next morning than usual, if such a thing is possible. He makes sure his hair is flawless. He applies an extra layer of moisturizing cream to his hands. He is ready to take on his first full day with his soulmate. 

He steps outside of his house, keys in hand, just as a motorcycle comes careening to a stop in his driveway. 

Blaine props the bike up between his thighs and pulls his helmet loose. He has a huge grin on his face as he takes in Kurt standing in front of him. 

“Good morning, starshine,” Blaine says, lowering his helmet to rest on his thigh. His jeans are obscenely tight, and Kurt knows something about obscenely tight jeans. His leather jacket is zipped up most of the way, revealing just a peek of skin and white t-shirt beneath it. His hair was gelled earlier, Kurt can tell, but the helmet has sent it into messy tendrils around his face. Kurt’s pulse starts skyrocketing. 

“Was that a Hair reference?” Kurt says, walking down the steps of his front porch. Blaine looks chagrined. 

“Things in my past, I told you,” Blaine says, leaning forward until he gets a grip on Kurt’s belt loop. 

“Watch it, these pants are vintage,” Kurt says as Blaine reels him in closer. 

“Sorry,” Blaine says, but his eyes don’t look sorry at all. “Can I give you a good morning kiss to make up for it?”

Kurt is ready to say yes, but something nagging at the back of his brain stops him. “How did you know where I live?”

“Uh,” Blaine says, squinting his eyes and scrunching up his nose. “I maybe asked Finn?”

“Maybe?” Kurt says, tilting his head. “Well, I’m impressed. Not by you, by Finn; I’m surprised he could actually remember the address well enough to pass on the information.”

“Remind me to thank him later,” Blaine says. “How about that kiss?”

“You’re lucky my dad’s already left for the morning,” Kurt says, leaning in closer. Blaine leans back, out of reach. 

“Shit, I didn’t even think of that, shit,” Blaine says, eyes wide. Kurt can’t help it; he laughs. “Don’t laugh at me, shit, I want to make a good impression on your dad.”

“I just said he was gone,” Kurt says, reaching forward to take a hold of Blaine’s jacket collar. “You’re fine.”

“Right,” Blaine says, settling down. “I’ll worry about first impressions tonight.”

“My big, tough, scary soulmate,” Kurt says, leaning in to kiss Blaine first. Blaine’s body sags slightly against Kurt’s as his mouth opens up; Blaine’s fingers find purchase in Kurt’s hair. They mold into each other easily, like they’re already familiar with the way the other is built. Kurt breaks his mouth away but presses his forehead to Blaine’s instead. Blaine chases his mouth for a second before letting Kurt catch his breath. 

“We’re gonna be late to school,” he says. Blaine chuckles. 

“We could skip,” Blaine offers. Kurt grins, feeling terrified and naughty at the way he considers his offer. 

“No way,” Kurt finally says. “I want to show you off.” He doesn’t miss the way Blaine’s hazel eyes gleam at his words, like he’s just been given the best compliment of his life. 

“All right, then,” Blaine says, “Hop on.”

“What?” Kurt says, looking at the bike like he hasn’t seen it before--which, in some ways, he hasn’t; he’s been avoiding making direct eye contact with it. “No, just park it in my garage, we can take my car.”

“No way, Kurt,” Blaine says, leaning back to unhitch a second helmet from it’s storage space. “It’s time I introduce you to Roxy.”

“Roxy?” Kurt says, looking down at the shining metal surface between Blaine’s legs. “Is this another musical theatre reference?”

“Only partially,” Blaine admits, sitting back up with the second helmet in tow. “Also for Roxy Music, one of my all time favorite bands.”

“Double significance, I like it,” Kurt says, looking at the helmet that Blaine is holding out to him. “But I’m still not getting on that thing. It will ruin my hair.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t have emergency supplies in that bag of yours,” Blaine says. “The helmet will just flatten it a little. You’ll have it back to gravity-defying heights in no time.”

“This means something to you, doesn’t it?” Kurt says. Blaine looks down, a little flushed. 

“I got Roxy when I first really started fighting with my dad,” Blaine says. “You weren’t asking for my issues, I know, but here they are anyway. She’s been the most important thing in my life since then. So yeah. I want to share this with you.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, second guessing the words as he says them. Blaine grins, then, and Kurt can’t regret saying yes. “At least this once, I’m not making any promises for the future.”

“You don’t have to,” Blaine says. “I already know you’ll love it.” Blaine helps Kurt into the helmet, strapping it tightly beneath his chin. “OK, all you gotta do is climb on behind me. Your feet go here.”

“What do I do with my arms?” Kurt asks as he moves to straddle the seat behind Blaine. Blaine grins at him.

“I should have thought that part would be obvious,” Blaine says before tugging on his own helmet. He then reaches back and takes Kurt’s arms in his hands. “Just wrap them around me as tight as you can.”

“Oh,” Kurt says as he comes in contact with Blaine’s leather clad back. It smells strongly of crisp air and the polished musk that leather always carries with it. He feels Blaine’s ribs move with the exertion of starting the bike, which is so, so loud in Kurt’s ears. 

“Hang on,” Blaine shouts, and then they’re moving. 

It’s like nothing Kurt has ever experienced before--not unlike a carnival ride, but smoother, safer. It’s terrifying at first when Blaine is still getting their balance right and he’s taking close turns to get them out of the driveway and onto the road, but then it’s--nice. It’s comfortable in a way Kurt never expected. It’s arousing in a way he never expected either, which he realizes shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. He’s pressed up against the warm, practically undulating body of the man nature has selected just for him. There’s a vibration rising up through him from between his legs. If his hands dropped any lower--

“Hold tighter,” Blaine shouts through the din, and Kurt realizes his arms have been creeping lower of their own accord. He tightens his grip, which brings his hips closer to Blaine’s. He’s closer than he’s ever been to another person right now. He feels Blaine burning through every inch of him.

And Kurt Hummel, who has always thought of himself as a romantic, is loving every second of it. 

He’s both grateful and disappointed that the ride to school is so short. Blaine eases them to a stop in his usual spot, and Kurt has no idea what to do with his limbs. He loosens his grip on Blaine’s torso just enough for Blaine to be able to reach up and undo his own helmet. 

“Well?” Blaine says through a grin the size of the grand canyon. It still sounds like he’s shouting to Kurt, even though the rumble of the bike is silenced. Kurt follows suit, undoing his helmet and taking it off a bit clumsily. His hair, predictably, flops down onto his forehead but he can’t even care. 

He also can’t stand up, not yet. His body’s reaction to the bike is still a little too visible. 

“That was--” Kurt begins, lowering his helmet so that it rests on his lap. “I don’t think I can do that every day.”

“Why not?” Blaine says, a small frown on his face. He glances down at the helmet in Kurt’s hands. “Oh. Oh!” Blaine’s smile turns into something a little softer, a little more seductive. “That gets better with practice.”

Kurt is completely flummoxed--both because he’s never talked openly about his body’s responses to anything before, and because talking about it with Blaine doesn’t feel weird. It actually feels kind of--

Well. It’s not helping with his issue, in any case. 

Blaine hops off the bike, holding it steady for Kurt, who follows suit. He hands the helmet back to Kurt, who grins at him, and thanks his sartorial stars that he wore a longer jacket this morning. 

“What’s your first class?” Blaine says as he pockets his keys in his jacket. 

“French,” Kurt replies. “But I should go to the men’s room first. My hair,” he says by way of explanation. 

“I like it,” Blaine says, taking Kurt’s arm in his. “It’s cute. Makes you look all innocent.”

“Just what I want,” Kurt grumbles, but Blaine tucks his nose into the space above Kurt’s ear and brushes a kiss there. 

“I like however you look,” Blaine says. “Let me walk you to class?”

And so Kurt agrees, floppy hair and all. It’s a completely different experience, walking to class on Blaine’s arm. There are looks, of course, but to his surprise they’re not all aimed at him. A great majority of them--confused, wide-eyed, baffled--are aimed at Blaine. And when Kurt takes a moment to consider it, he can’t blame them. He’s certainly never seen Blaine like this--all soft glances and smiles, tucked into the arms of someone else. He looks younger, sweeter, even with the stubble and the leather and the spiked hair. 

Blaine kisses Kurt a sweet goodbye at his class door before turning off back down the hall. Kurt has no idea what class Blaine has now; he’s not even sure if he’s going to it. Kurt walks into the French classroom in a pleased daze. So far, having a soulmate that goes to the same school as he does is the greatest thing that ever happened in his life. 

That is, until Azimio settles into the desk next to him. “What’d you do with Anderson’s balls?” he asks. Kurt blinks up at him. 

“I should thank you, really,” Azimio says, settling into his desk a little more deeply. “Now, I don’t know what two dudes do together, and I really don’t care, whatever whatever, but I do know that if you’ve neutered Anderson then we can finally get our school back from that rabid ankle-biting mutt.”

“What are you talking about?” Kurt says. “You’re as much of a neanderthal as always.”

“I could be so much worse, Hummel,” Azimio says. “So much worse.”

Kurt’s attention is drawn by the teacher at the front of the class, then. He does his best to put Azimio’s words to the back of his mind. 

He succeeds for the rest of the morning, which proceeds on much the same; Blaine meets Kurt at his class and escorts him to the next, dropping him off with a kiss and a plan to see him after. It doesn’t take him long to become used to it. It’s just long enough that when Blaine isn’t waiting for Kurt just before lunch, he feels a distinct sense of loss. 

And then he starts to worry. 

He walks in the direction of the cafeteria. It’s unnervingly quiet down the first stretch of hall. Then, suddenly, like a scene coming to life in a movie, he hears the sound of crowd hollering and cheering. Deep inside his bones, he knows what it is. 

He rounds the corner just in time to see Blaine being pulled off Azimio, who is curled in a cowering ball on the floor. Blaine’s eyes are wild, and his chest is heaving from exertion. His white t-shirt has specks of blood on it.   
“Don’t fuck with me, Azimio,” Blaine is shouting. “Don’t you even start fucking with me, I swear to God--”

“Break it up, already,” Sue’s voice hollers over the din. “Someone get the nurse for the beached whale here. Hudson, take Anderson to the office.”

“I don’t need a fucking escort,” Blaine snarls, yanking his arms out of Finn and Puck’s. 

“Fine, then, walk yourself,” Sue says back. “Get going.”

Blaine straightens his shirt before grabbing for his jacket, abandoned on the ground. He tears a path through the crowd, which parts in his wake. Kurt waits for Blaine to notice him standing there, but he doesn’t. Blaine’s focus is straight ahead of him. Kurt remembers suddenly what it felt like seeing Blaine in the halls all those times before. It’s like he’s been getting to know a completely different person. 

“Hummel,” Sue’s voice breaks through to him. He looks up to meet her eyes, which he would almost say are sympathetic. “Keep an eye on him.”

Kurt nods and begins walking down the same route that Blaine is. He’s a good 20 feet behind him, and Kurt’s in no rush to shorten that distance. For what it’s worth, Blaine appears to be keeping his word and heading straight toward the principal’s office. Kurt follows along behind him, completely silent. 

Five feet outside of the office Blaine pulls to a stop. Kurt follows suit. 

“I know that you’re there,” Blaine says. He turns his head slightly so Kurt can see his profile. “I’m here, now, so you don’t have to watch over me anymore.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Kurt asks. Blaine looks to the ground. 

“I didn’t want you to--” Blaine says, before rolling his head back and looking at the sky. “Jesus, not like you don’t know who I am already, I guess.”

“You think this is who you are?” Kurt says, and Blaine turns back to look at him. 

“Don’t you?” Blaine says, his eyes sad. “Isn’t that all you know about me?”

“Until yesterday, maybe,” Kurt says, moving closer to him. “But I’ve maybe got a problem with being a little short-sighted. Except when it comes to fashion.”

“Of course,” Blaine says with a fond roll of his eyes. 

“You’re more than the fights you get into,” Kurt says. Blaine sniffles a laugh. 

“I don’t regret it,” Blaine says then, looking up at Kurt. “I regret that I’m going to get detention, because it means I won’t be able to hang out with you after school--”

“I have glee anyway,” Kurt says. Blaine’s laugh is stronger now.

“But I don’t do it because it’s fun,” Blaine explains, taking the last step in until he’s touching Kurt. “I do it because I have to.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “Azimio was...talking during French. About how I’d neutered you.”

Blaine’s jaw sets. “I would kick his ass again just for that.” 

“I think the once was enough,” Kurt says, moving his fingers to stroke Blaine’s cheek. Blaine’s eyes close, looking blissful. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Blaine says, blinking his eyes open. “He couldn’t even get off a good punch.”

“There’s just blood,” Kurt says, drawing Blaine’s attention to his shirt. 

“Yeah, I think I broke his nose,” Blaine says, pulling the shirt away from his skin. “Oops.”

“I have a spare in my locker,” Kurt says. “I’ll go grab it for you while you talk to Figgins.”

“I am crazy about you, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says, his eyes so deep with affection Kurt’s not sure he can remember how to breathe in their presence. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say that--”

“Blaine Anderson,” Principal Figgins says then, drawing their attention. “We meet again.”

“I’ll be right back,” Kurt says. Blaine smiles. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Blaine replies, moving toward Figgins, who takes one glance at Blaine’s blood-spattered shirt and recoils. 

Kurt’s feeling a little crazy himself.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Kurt is back with the spare shirt he keeps in his locker, Blaine is already done with Figgins and waiting for Kurt outside of the office. He’s leaning against the wall with his knee bent and his leather jacket in his hand resting on his thigh. His head is tilted back, giving Kurt a clear view of the length of his neck. Kurt clears his throat, trying to get his racing pulse back under control. The sound catches Blaine’s attention. 

“Hey,” Blaine says, turning with a smile to greet him. 

“That didn’t take long,” Kurt says, smiling in return. “Here, one shirt. It’s not really your style, I know--”

“You mean it’s not an undershirt?” Blaine says, moving closer to grab the offered cloth from Kurt’s hand. “I think I can manage.”

Kurt’s not really sure what he expected out of this moment--maybe for Blaine to excuse himself to the restroom down the hall, or maybe even just to put it on over his blood spattered one. Instead, Blaine walks the couple of steps to the bench outside of the office and throws his jacket and Kurt’s shirt down onto the back of it. He then takes both hands to the waist of his soiled shirt and--before Kurt can even adjust to the two inches of bare stomach he’s seeing--Blaine removes his shirt right there in the middle of the hallway. Flustered, Kurt drops his gaze to the ground. He wants to look, with every inch of his body--but he feels wrong ogling his soulmate in public. Even if he has every right to. His gaze creeps up anyway, just as Blaine begins buttoning up the front over his torso. It fits him--is even a little loose in the shoulders--save for the very bottom couple of buttons, which pull just slightly over the soft curve of stomach that Blaine is apparently carrying. 

“I like it,” Blaine says, moving to roll up the sleeves. “This pattern’s wild. Marc Jacobs, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s past season,” Kurt says, his tongue sticking in his dry mouth. Blaine looks up, quirks an eyebrow. “That’s why I keep it here, for emergencies. I’ve kind of outgrown it, actually.”

“Have you, now?” Blaine says, shrugging his shoulders more comfortably into the material. Kurt’s humiliated by the rush of want that overtakes him at the sight. He’s been attracted to guys before, sure, but nothing--absolutely nothing has prepared him for feeling like this. 

“It’s like I’ve marked you,” Kurt says before he can stop himself. Blaine doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. On the contrary; Blaine’s face is delighted. 

“You already did,” Blaine says, moving forward to take Kurt’s hand in his. He uses it to propel Kurt further into his arms. He takes Kurt’s right hand in his left and places it firmly against his chest, right above his heart. “Right here.”

“That’s where yours is?” Kurt says, spreading his palm further to see if he can feel it beneath the material.

“Mm,” Blaine confirms. “Which you’d know, if you hadn’t been so shy when I was changing my shirt just now.”

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Kurt defends himself. Blaine laughs as he leans in for a peck on Kurt’s lips. 

“You can look at me whenever you like,” Blaine says. “Now let’s get you some lunch before it’s too late.”

Blaine throws the ruined shirt into the garbage as they walk (“You can salvage clothes from bloodstains, Blaine,” Kurt says; “I have others,” Blaine replies). The cafeteria is closing up when they get there, but Blaine just walks right up to the kitchen window. 

“Hello ladies,” Blaine calls, leaning in. “Millie, lovely to see you.”

One of the lunch ladies--and Kurt has never even considered getting to know the names of the lunch ladies before--smiles when she sees Blaine before immediately schooling her face into a frown. 

“Blaine Anderson, what’s this I hear about you getting into another fight?” Millie says as she walks closer. Her hands are on her hips. 

“I know, I know,” Blaine says, holding up his hands. “I was just defending the honor of my soulmate here. Millie, this is Kurt. Kurt, Millie Rose.”

Millie smiles wide at Kurt, showing all her teeth. “Blaine, you’re kidding! I’m so happy for you. It’s a pleasure, Kurt.”

“Likewise,” Kurt says, holding out his hand to shake hers. Millie looks back at Blaine, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“This is why you missed lunch, then?” Millie says, and Blaine puts on the best puppy-dog eyes Kurt’s ever seen. 

“It’s why Kurt missed lunch, Millie, because he was cleaning up after me,” Blaine says. “And you know how important food is for a student to do well in school.”

“You are awful and I haven’t fallen for any of your tricks, mister,” Millie says, but she’s grinning. “But I can’t punish your poor soulmate for being stuck with you.”

“Thank you, Millie,” Blaine says. Millie turns back to Kurt.

“I can’t get much out by this point,” she says. “Is a yogurt and a fruit cup okay?”

“That’s perfect,” Kurt says. “Thank you so much.”

“I can maybe toss in a couple rolls, too,” Millie says, moving back to grab the items. Blaine turns a very pleased-with-himself grin to Kurt, who just shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe you,” Kurt says. Blaine’s grin widens. 

“Ok, ok, get out of here before someone catches you,” Millie says, handing Blaine a bag. He leans through the window and smacks a kiss loudly on her cheek. 

“You’re the best. Tell Marley I said hi,” he says, grabbing the bag first and then Kurt’s hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Kurt calls behind them. Millie just waves. 

“Come on, let’s go have lunch,” Blaine says, tugging Kurt along with him once again. “I’ve got the perfect place.”

Kurt just lets himself be pulled along, back in the direction of the gym. There’s a door there that Kurt’s seen a million times but never entered; he’s always been pretty sure it doesn’t go anywhere. He’s been wrong, apparently. Blaine slips a device out of his pocket and tucks his hips up close to the door, obscuring what he’s doing. 

“Are you picking a lock?” Kurt says, far too loudly.

“Shh,” Blaine hisses, glancing down the hall. “Just give me a second.”

A second is truly all it takes before the door is swinging open. There’s a small staircase, leading up to an open room with a giant window filled with excess school equipment. He can see the leaves falling in the wind over the schoolyard. He feels a million miles away from the view below him. 

“How did you know this was here?” Kurt says, turning back to Blaine who is busying himself pulling a large blue mat into the middle of the floor. 

“When I was a kid,” Blaine begins, “I was obsessed with Neverending Story. You’ve seen that movie?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, walking closer to him. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Well,” Blaine says, breathing a little heavier with the exertion of dealing with the mat. “I always wondered, do schools really have attics like that? Where he hid out? And when I started trying to find places to get away when I was in school, after kids started giving me shit, I decided I was going to find it. McKinley’s the first school I’ve found that actually has one.”

“I always wanted a place like this, too,” Kurt says, looking around. “I just never thought to look for one.”

“Well,” Blaine says, dusting off his hands. “That’s what you have me around for.”

The school bell rings then, signaling the start of the next period. Kurt’s pulse raises a protest to their plans. 

“I can’t skip the whole afternoon again,” Kurt says.

“Neither can I,” Blaine says, reaching for the bag. “I do want to graduate from high school, you know. Despite what your stereotypes about me might have you believe.”

“I heard a rumor that you were an excellent student but I wasn’t sure it was accurate,” Kurt says, stepping forward to take a seat on the mat. He sets his bag next to him. 

“Who in the world told you such a rumor?” Blaine says, his voice laced with humor.

“Ms. Pillsbury,” Kurt says, reaching to take the yogurt and fruit Blaine offers him. “Right after I told her you were my soulmate.”

“Is that what you were doing in her office?” Blaine says. “Asking about me?”

“I didn’t know that you even knew her,” Kurt says. 

“I’m a delinquent, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says, leering at Kurt just a bit before settling into the mat himself. “Of course I’m well-acquainted with the guidance counselor.”

“Do you work with her by choice?” Kurt says, unable to stop himself from asking. “Or is that punishment?”

“Both, I guess,” Blaine says, licking his spoon. “Basically how it goes is this--I get in trouble, I go into Figgins’ office, he says he has to punish me because it’s his job but he doesn’t want me to bring my gang to the school--”

“Your gang?” Kurt interrupts. Blaine wags his eyebrows.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear? I’m a gang leader,” Blaine says, digging into his yogurt once more. “I tell him that I’ll do an afternoon of detention for show and then community service hours with Ms. Pillsbury if he’ll keep it off my permanent record. He agrees and dismisses me as fast as he can.”

“Is there anyone in this school you can’t charm?” Kurt asks, and Blaine grins. 

“Your glee teacher,” Blaine says. “I fucking hate that guy. I had him for Spanish once and he actually gave me a C. No one has ever given me a C before. I think he just hates that his soulmate likes me so much.”

“He doesn’t even know how to speak the language,” Kurt says. Blaine huffs. 

“I know, don’t get me started,” Blaine agrees. “Plus he never gives you solos. Fuck that guy.”

“How do you know he doesn’t give me solos?” Kurt asks, tilting his head. Blaine flushes a bit. 

“I’m going to blame soulmate intuition,” Blaine says. “I’m pretty sure that’s why I was drawn to every glee performance, at least. It wasn’t because of an extremely attractive countertenor or anything.”

“Of course not,” Kurt says, feeling overwhelmed. 

“And if I would sometimes find a spot outside of the choir room to read while you guys rehearsed, well,” Blaine says, avoiding Kurt’s eyes, “it wasn’t so I could hear you sing or anything.”

“You’ve heard me sing?” Kurt says, and it almost feels invasive--but it doesn’t, not really. It’s the most flattering thing Kurt has ever heard. Blaine scrunches his nose. 

“That’s totally creepy, isn’t it?” Blaine says, before sighing. “I tried really hard not to have a crush on you before but I wasn’t any good at it.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says, and Blaine shakes his head. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not creepy,” Kurt says. “Not at all.”

Blaine smiles, a small, pleased smile. “Oh. Okay.”

“Why didn’t you want to have a crush on me?” Kurt says, unable to wrap his head around it. “I mean, so badly. I know you thought I wasn’t your soulmate, but--”

“It’s a long, complicated story, Kurt, and we don’t really have the time to get into it right now,” Blaine says, looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes. “I will tell you all of it, I promise. But I also promised I would get you to class, and I can’t keep both of those promises at the same time.”

Kurt nods, but Blaine’s words have done little to quell the curiosity that’s begun to grow inside of him. 

They finish their meager lunches with twenty minutes left before class change. Kurt’s first instinct is to spend the last twenty minutes kissing Blaine, but there’s something in his gut holding him back. He watches Blaine pack up their garbage quietly. Finally, Blaine sits back on his heels. 

“This is gonna make things weird, isn’t it?” Blaine says. “If I don’t just tell you now.”

“No,” Kurt says, but he knows Blaine is right. He can feel himself withdrawing a little more with every second that passes. Blaine sighs and runs a hand over his neck. 

“OK, it’s not as bad as you’re probably making it out to be in your head,” Blaine says, and Kurt shakes his head. 

“I’m not making it out to be anything,” Kurt says. “Honestly. I’m baffled, but I haven’t made up anything. I can’t even conceive of what could be so complicated that you can’t just say.”

“That’s because you’re a good kid,” Blaine says, moving closer to him. “I don’t think you have any bad instincts in you.”

“That’s not true,” Kurt says. “Just ask my glee friends.”

“The point is,” Blaine says, “That even though you were the last kid to get his mark, that you were picked on for being small and for dressing differently, that you’ve been an outsider, that you never once thought of just taking out that frustration on someone else.”

“Of course I have,” Kurt says, but Blaine shakes his head. 

“Not like I have,” Blaine says. “You waited for me.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, and his blood runs cold. He’d just assumed, somehow, and wow, hadn’t that been stupid. Of course Blaine hadn’t waited. 

“I haven’t had sex with anyone,” Blaine says, his eyes moving quickly over Kurt’s features. “It was just kissing. But it was--there were a few.”

“A few,” Kurt says, unable to say anything that isn’t just repeating what Blaine is saying. 

“I’d had my mark for over a year,” Blaine says. “And nothing. People around me were getting matched up and giving me so much shit, and saying things about how you were probably dead, or you just knew it was me and took your name out of the system. They’d leave notes in my locker, pretending they were from you. Not you, of course, but--my soulmate.” Blaine chokes back something that sounds like a sob. “I started to think they were right; maybe not think it, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wanted to stop thinking about it. So I went to this party and I got drunk. And I kissed this guy. I thought it would make me feel better.

“Not only did it not make me feel better, but it made things at school so much worse,” Blaine continues. “Suddenly I was easy, weak, and of course my soulmate wouldn’t want me now. It was a really conservative school, not like this, and people didn’t date around, not really. So I started seeking out guys to make out with to ruin their reputations, too. And then that wasn’t enough, because I hated it, kissing people who weren’t you. I hated it so fucking much. And I swore to myself I wouldn’t. I would never kiss anyone who wasn’t you ever again.”

“Is that when you started punching people?” Kurt asks, and Blaine laughs a wet, messy laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Blaine says. “That’s when I started punching people instead. I got kicked out. I went to another school, but that didn’t last longer than a week. Then I ended up here.” Blaine looks up. “And I saw you on the first day and I wanted to leave, because I wasn’t sure my resolve could last. And then that asshole pushed you, and I kicked his ass, and I knew I couldn’t leave you alone here.” Blaine clears his throat. “And it’s been perfect, really. Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the administration here is kind of weak and I’ve basically had the run of the place.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Kurt says. There’s a moment of silence, filled just with the two of them breathing. Kurt has no idea what to say. Blaine’s hand inches to his, his fingers touch him just briefly. 

“Tell me they’re wrong,” Blaine says. Kurt looks up at him, but Blaine is still looking at their hands. “Tell me you still want me.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says, reaching out to take Blaine’s cheek in his hand. Blaine’s eyes lift and find his. “Of course I do.”

Blaine lunges in then, kisses him messily. Kurt’s weight adjusts to balance the two of them as he kisses back. Blaine breaks away. 

“Can you,” Blaine breathes out, eyes still closed. “God it’s stupid--”

“It’s not stupid,” Kurt says. “What do you want?”

“Can you say the actual words?” Blaine whispers against Kurt’s cheek. “Say you want me?”

“I want you, Blaine,” Kurt says. “I want you.”

Blaine is on top of Kurt in seconds, moaning hard against his neck. Kurt lays back and lets Blaine’s weight cover him entirely. Kurt’s burning up from the inside, and the roll of Blaine’s hips hard against his is like a spark to kindling. 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, pushing up on his palms. His cheeks are damp. “Sorry, god, I’m not trying to have sex with you here either.”

Kurt laughs, full and joyous. “Good thing, because I’m not losing my virginity in McKinley High. I have some standards.”

“So do I,” Blaine says, rolling over onto his side next to Kurt. “What do you think I am, some kind of hooligan?”

“I think you’re my soulmate,” Kurt says, and Blaine grins before leaning in to kiss him once more. That’s all they have time for before the bell signaling the end of the period sounds. Blaine groans, leaning his head against Kurt’s. 

“Are you sure you’re not okay with skipping the whole afternoon?” Blaine asks into his hair. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I’m sure you would,” Kurt says, and he’s surprised by his own brazenness as he runs his fingers down the open curve of his shirt over Blaine’s neck. Blaine shudders lightly at his touch. “But you want the meeting with my dad to go well this evening, right? You don’t want him to have gotten a second call about how his son has skipped classes two days in a row to hang out with his gang leader soulmate?”

“Figgins would never betray my secret like that,” Blaine says, grabbing Kurt’s finger and bringing it up to his mouth. He presses a soft kiss to the tip. “But yes, yes, all you had to do was mention your dad. Let’s get to class like the responsible students we are.”

Kurt takes a moment to catch his breath before following Blaine back into the rest of their day.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine’s determination to walk Kurt to each of his classes remains unabated for the rest of the afternoon. This time, however, no one stares at Blaine as they had that morning. The message of Azimio has been received loud and clear: Blaine Anderson with a soulmate may look softer, but he definitely, definitely isn’t. 

By the time glee rolls around, Kurt’s getting different looks, too. Most are standard-issue gawkery, but there are a few that look intrigued--maybe even impressed. Blaine drops Kurt off at the choir room door with a lingering kiss that’s interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Schue, who awkwardly clears his throat too loudly. 

“Blaine, are you joining us?” Schue says, coming up too close beside them. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in what we do here--Not that you’re not welcome, of course, I don’t mean to say--”

“Right,” Blaine says, furrowing his brow. “That sounds super welcoming. Alas, I have detention.”

“Oh,” Mr. Schue says, looking both relieved and concerned at the same time. “Kurt, let’s go get started.”

“I’ll be right in,” Kurt says, and Mr. Schue finally seems to get the hint. As he heads into the classroom, Kurt turns back to Blaine. 

“You weren’t kidding,” Kurt says. Blaine tugs his lip sideways into a grimace. 

“That guy is the biggest douche--”

“Blaine Anderson, what do you think you’re doing?” Coach Roz hollers from the other end of the hallway. “You are the only detention case I have today and I am not staying later just because you got yourself a boytoy. Now get yourself over here.”

“Looks like I gotta go,” Blaine says before pecking Kurt on the lips. “I’ll see you right here when you’re done.”

Kurt slides into the choir room in a blissful haze that shatters immediately. 

“Kurt, we have to talk,” Rachel says. 

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” Mercedes says, holding up her hand. “Before you start blaming me.”

“This is all the hobbit,” Santana says, barely looking up from her nails. 

“You guys, you’re concerned, too,” Rachel says, shooting all of them a stare. She stops and looks at Finn. “I know we’re not soulmates, but he is practically your brother.”

“Guys, guys,” Mr. Schue says. “What’s this about?”

“Kurt skipped class this afternoon,” Rachel says, and Kurt groans. He’d forgotten that he shares his post-lunch class with Rachel. “And he skipped class all afternoon yesterday. And Blaine got into a fight this afternoon, right before Kurt went missing.”

“Wanky,” Santana says, looking up at Kurt. “Blainey’s bloodlust is pretty literal, huh?”

“We were eating lunch, since we missed it because of the incident with Azimio,” Kurt says, gripping his bag more tightly. 

“You mean when Blaine broke someone’s nose?” Rachel says, her voice turning shrill. “Kurt, I know you’re happy you found your soulmate, but have you stopped to think about what’s becoming of you?”

“What’s becoming of me?” Kurt says. “You mean how I’ve had a major development in my life and yet I’m still here in glee both days? I’m not allowed a bit of leeway while we figure things out?”

“Wanky things?” Santana says, smirking. 

“No one asked you, Santana,” Kurt says. 

“We just want to make sure that you’re okay,” Rachel says. “That you’re not getting so caught up in the dream of what having a soulmate would be like that you’re not seeing Blaine for who he really is.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m seeing Blaine for who he really is,” Kurt says, feeling flush with anger. “Considering I am the only person here who has actually spoken to him for more than a minute.”

“I just think you should take some time to think about it, like Mercedes,” Rachel says. 

“Oh hell no, don’t you dare bring me into this,” Mercedes says then. Rachel turns to her, but Mercedes just holds up her hand. “Rachel, sit down. Everyone in this room knows that you’re taking out your frustrations about Finn not being your soulmate on Kurt. As the only other person in this room to have actually spoken to my soulmate face to face--”

“You guys, I’m in this room, too,” Mr. Schue says. “I live with my soulmate.”

“I’m telling you that you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mercedes says. “Also, I have spoken to Blaine for more than ten minutes, actually, and I can vouch for what Kurt says. Blaine’s good people, and he is really, really crazy about Kurt.”

“When did you talk to Blaine?” Kurt says. Mercedes gives him a small smile. 

“We have history together during sixth period,” she says. “I sat next to him today.”

Kurt can’t help but smile back at her. 

 

“Rachel, it sounds like you have some really strong feelings about soulmates,” Mr. Schue says. “Why don’t you sing about it?”

Kurt sighs, glad that the crisis of the moment is over. He moves up to sit next to Mercedes, who pulls a chair closer for him. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. She puts her hand on his knee. 

“No worries,” she says. “I meant every word.”

After glee is over, Kurt turns to her as they both gather their things. “Can I ask about what happened yesterday?”

“We talked,” Mercedes says. “He’s staying in town for a few days. I still think it was wrong of him to surprise me like that, but I also see his point that it was unfair for me to make that decision without discussing it with him first. We’re going to spend the next couple of days together and see how we feel after that.”

“What does that mean?” Kurt says, following beside Mercedes as she heads toward the door. “Please tell me you’re not moving to Kentucky.”

“Who’s moving to Kentucky?” Blaine says as they step into the hall. Kurt glances up and grins when he sees him leaning against the wall opposite the door. “Because that’s a hell of a coincidence. This guy’s from Kentucky.”

“Hey there, pard’ner,” Sam says from his spot next to Blaine. He’s only got eyes for Mercedes. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Sam, I’d like you to meet my best friend, Kurt,” Mercedes says, taking Sam’s arm with a casual ease. There’s a brightness in her voice matched by a twinkle in her eye that appeared as soon as she saw Sam. “Kurt, this is Sam.”

“Hey, dude,” Sam says, holding out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Mercedes talks about me?” Kurt says, tilting his chin to his shoulder in a mimicry of coyness. “I’m flattered.”

“No, actually, from Blaine,” Sam says, gesturing back at Blaine, who raises his hand. “That’s amazing that you guys were actually in the same school.”

“I’m a lucky guy,” Blaine says, walking forward to take Kurt’s hand. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Kurt and I have a date with his father and I want to make sure I get him home and presentable in plenty of time.”

“Ooh, meeting the parents, huh, dude?” Sam says, giving a grimace with his exceptionally large mouth. “I did that one myself last night.”

“And it was fine,” Mercedes says, squeezing his arm. “You guys have nothing to worry about. Burt’s not nearly as scary as he seems, Blaine.”

“He seems scary?” Blaine says, glancing at Kurt. “How did you not tell me your dad was scary?”

“Somehow I thought this wouldn’t be an issue for you,” Kurt says, smiling at the look of fear on Blaine’s face. “You seem to have no trouble scaring people yourself.”

“Yeah, but not my soulmate’s dad,” Blaine says. Mercedes pats his arm. 

“Well, my advice is to not mention the motorcycle,” Mercedes says. “Burt’s a car guy and I’ve had listen to more than one lecture from him about how unsafe motorcycles are. There’s a reason that Kurt drives such a big beast of a vehicle.”

“This is not going to go my way, is it?” Blaine asks. 

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Kurt replies. “I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

“Let’s get you home before your dad realizes I took you on Roxy,” Blaine says, giving a small tug on Kurt’s hand. 

“Bye, guys,” Mercedes says, giving them a wave. 

“Later, dudes,” Sam replies. 

“I don’t think that you properly prepared me for this dinner,” Blaine says as they walk through the halls in the direction of the parking lot. 

“I didn’t prepare you at all,” Kurt replies. “Because this dinner was your idea.”

“Fuck,” Blaine curses. “I fucked this up.”


	8. Chapter 8

Burt is not at the house when they arrive, which Kurt takes as a good sign. He isn’t ordinarily at home when Kurt gets home from school, and there would be no reason he should be on this day. Still, Kurt had feared that his dad would’ve drawn the same conclusion he has--that a gap of time between school and dinner after work means two new soulmates left alone for the first time. In a house. With beds, and couches. 

Burt has not drawn this conclusion, however, or else he trusts Kurt more than Kurt trusts himself. Yesterday the idea of time alone in his bedroom with Blaine would’ve terrified him more than anything. Now, however, after the developments of the past 48 hours, he feels a little different. 

Not ready-to-lose-his-virginity different, but he could be persuaded to do a little real making out. 

Kurt’s ready to casually invite Blaine down to his basement bedroom to “take a look around” when Blaine settles himself down at the dining room table. 

“This is nice,” Blaine says, spreading his palms on the table. “It’s got a really nice texture. Is it hard?” Blaine glances up at Kurt’s face, looking stricken. “No! No, that is not what I meant to say. I meant to say hardwood, Jesus fuck…”

“Blaine, it’s okay,” Kurt says settling into the seat across from him. “It’s cherry.”

“That isn’t any better, oh my God,” Blaine says, dropping his head to his arms, which he’s now folded in front of him. “Oh my God, I’m a fucking pervert.”

“Blaine, stop,” Kurt says, reaching forward to put his hands on the creases of Blaine’s elbows. “Take a deep breath.”

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine mumbles into his arms. “I have been telling myself all day that I have to keep it together tonight and I am failing already. Thank God your dad isn’t home yet, maybe I can get this all out of my system.”

“Get what out of your system?” Kurt asks. “I’m so confused.”

“These inappropriate comments,” Blaine says, lifting his head. His face is completely pink. “It’s like every dirty thought I’ve ever had about you has come back with a vengeance and is now at the forefront of my mind, just waiting to come out as soon as I open my mouth.”

“Blaine, that’s--” Kurt stops speaking for a second. “That’s really sweet, actually. Why do I think that’s sweet?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says, his voice breaking into a laugh. “I have no idea but I’m glad you do.”

“I have a proposal,” Kurt says, tilting his head. Blaine’s eyes widen, beginning to shimmer a bit more. 

“And that is?” Blaine asks. 

“What if we worked off some of that tension before my dad comes home?” Kurt offers. Blaine’s mouth drops open, just enough. His cheeks flush anew, but it’s a different kind of flush. “Not sex or anything, I’m not ready for that, particularly not just before my dad comes home, but maybe a little de-stressing making out? We have at least an hour and a half before he’ll get here.”

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says on an exhaled breath. “You have the best ideas.”

“I know,” Kurt says, before pushing his chair back from the table. “Let me show you to my room, Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine follows Kurt willingly down the hall to the stairs to the basement. It’s still the only room Kurt has ever kissed someone in, though he anticipates kissing Blaine here will be far more satisfying than kissing Brittany ever was. 

“I like it,” Blaine says when they arrive in the space. He turns around so he can get a good look at every angle. “It’s very chic. Much like you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Kurt says, as Blaine circles back around to him. There’s a look on Blaine’s face that’s both determined and a little out-of-control. 

“Oh yeah?” Blaine breathes, moving closer to Kurt. His arms reach out for Kurt’s waist and Kurt instinctively raises his arms to circle around Blaine’s neck. “Let me keep flattering you, then.”

“I think you should shut up now and kiss me,” Kurt replies, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears. It’s like it’s originating from a different part of him--one that hasn’t been awoken until now. 

Blaine says nothing else, just obliges Kurt’s request. The shirt underneath Kurt’s fingers is familiar, even stretched over foreign shoulders. He traces circles on Blaine’s skin just underneath the collar of it as Blaine circles his tongue around his in tandem. Blaine’s hands grip more tightly at Kurt’s back, finding purchase in the material of Kurt’s shirt before pulling it up his back, away from the waistband of his jeans. One of Blaine’s hands holds the shirt in place as the other slips lower, headed in the opposite direction. The cool air of the basement on Kurt’s bare skin plays in stark contrast to the heat of Blaine’s hand. It is the simplest of touches but it feels erotic to Kurt. It sends a rush of endorphins through his body, pooling low at the center of him. He feels like it should feel like too much, but it doesn’t, not at all. 

Blaine’s thumb dips lightly beneath the waistband of Kurt’s jeans, and his hips move of their own accord closer to Blaine’s body. He becomes fully aware of just how far along his own arousal is when it makes contact with Blaine’s. 

Instead of scrambling away as before, Blaine does the opposite. With a low whine, Blaine pulls his hips back only to move them right back against Kurt’s, making contact all along the length of him. Kurt gasps a little with how it feels--so much and yet nowhere near enough at the same time--and Blaine does it again. This time, Kurt’s hips find the rhythm with him and the contact is even more, sending electric shocks through the entirety of Kurt’s body. 

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers as he traces his lips away from Kurt’s and across the swell of Kurt’s cheek. He stops when his mouth reaches Kurt’s ear. “Tell me if this is too much.”

“It’s not,” Kurt says, his voice cracking high, just slightly. Blaine’s hips continue their slow rock against his. 

“Do you want to get more comfortable?” Blaine asks. Kurt feels overwhelmed, almost unable to think. Blaine’s breath continues it’s soft assault on the skin of his ear. 

“I’m not pushing for anything,” Blaine continues. His hand begins softly stroking the dip at the base of Kurt’s spine. “Not even the bed, okay? Maybe that little sofa?”

Kurt has been unable to associate that sofa with anything other than his lessons with Brittany since they happened. The idea of rewriting that history with something more pleasant is more than Kurt is overwhelmingly appealing. He says yes without hesitation. 

Kurt feels Blaine grin against his ear before pressing a small, warm kiss to his cheek. Blaine lets go of his back in order to take his hand and lead him to the sofa against the wall. Kurt is surprised when Blaine takes a seat on the sofa before him, stretching himself out along it’s length. He tugs Kurt’s hand to get him closer, then begins easing Kurt’s legs into a straddle across him. 

“This way, you can be in charge of how fast we go,” Blaine says to Kurt, who isn’t sure this actually a better situation to be in. His thighs tense as he holds himself mere inches above Blaine’s body. Blaine’s hands begin sliding up and down along the sides of Kurt’s thighs in a comforting gesture. 

“It’s okay,” Blaine says, tilting his head back so he can look at Kurt. His eyes are earnest and wide. “You can sit down. You won’t hurt me. Or you can not, too, if that’s better. We can sit up, if you’d rather?”

But Kurt wouldn’t rather, he’s pretty sure. He’s pretty sure what he wants is to feel Blaine’s cock again against his, even if it’s through the safety of layers of clothing. Even if nothing comes of it--and oh God, did he just make a sex pun in his head?

“Kurt?” Blaine asks, now looking concerned. Kurt smiles and puts on his best performer face before bending his knees and sinking down until his hips are flush with Blaine’s.

His erection had flagged a little during the trip across the room, and from what he can feel so had Blaine’s. It doesn’t take long, however, once Kurt’s braced himself with his arms in a lean over Blaine’s torso and begun kissing him again in earnest, for their hips to begin moving again. Once that happens, Kurt’s cock swells more quickly than it ever has before, pressing painfully against the seam of his pants. He can feel Blaine hardening as well, though their change in positions has taken them out of alignment with each other. 

“Hang on,” Blaine says, breaking away from the kiss and lifting Kurt’s hips up with both hands.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Kurt whispers, pulling even further back. Blaine’s brow furrows. 

“No, no, just hang on,” Blaine says, and it takes Kurt too many beats to realize that Blaine’s hand has slipped down the front of his jeans. Blaine bites his lip for a moment and lets out a soft burst of breath before removing his hand and reaching for Kurt’s hips once more. 

“There, come on,” Blaine whispers, tugging Kurt forward. This time their cocks align almost perfectly. “Yeah, that’s it, that’s--”

Kurt rolls his hips again, a little experimentally, and Blaine’s eyes roll back. “Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine breathes, digging his hands deep into Kurt’s back pockets. “Oh my God.”

Kurt feels wild with power and arousal. He moves his hips harder, softer, faster, slower. Each change in tempo feels amazing, and so, so different. He’s torn between paying more attention to the way it feels or to the way Blaine is responding beneath him. He’s flushed now, panting, letting out tiny grunts and sighs and whines when Kurt changes tempo too suddenly. 

“Kurt,” Blaine whimpers. “Kiss me, please, come on.” 

Kurt obliges. It’s different kissing like this--there’s no finesse, no nuance. Kissing is an afterthought to the roll of their hips, more just another way to touch. Blaine’s hands are hard and needy on Kurt’s back. Kurt’s hips find a rhythm and stay there as he moves his attention to Blaine’s mouth, and it doesn’t take long before his thrusts have gone from playful to determined, chasing the feeling as it builds deep within him. 

“Oh god,” Blaine begins whining. “Oh god, oh god, oh Kurt, god, we have to stop, you have to stop, stop, hang on--”

Blaine’s hands are pushing Kurt’s hips back again, and this time Kurt whines himself. 

“What, no,” Kurt says, “That was just starting to feel really good--”

“Too good,” Blaine says with a breathless laugh. “I was about to come.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, flushing deep. “I mean, that’s good, right? That’s the goal?”

“Not when I’m gonna come in the only pants I have here when I’m about to meet your dad in an hour,” Blaine says, his breathing still rapid. 

“You could borrow a pair of my pants,” Kurt offers. Blaine shakes his head. 

“I’m also not going to meet your dad wearing your pants when he knows we’ve been here alone,” Blaine explains. “We should cool off.”

“What if you took off your pants?” Kurt says, surprising himself. Blaine blinks up at him. 

“Do you mean,” Blaine says, brow furrowing again. “What do you mean?”

“I could take off my pants, too,” Kurt says, feeling ridiculous for not knowing how to say such a simple thing. “And then we could...keep going?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, and he sounds almost awed. “Kurt, are you sure?”

“I am,” Kurt says, and he means it. Blaine looks like he’s about to burst. “Please say yes before I’m so embarrassed I die right here on the spot.”

“Yes,” Blaine says, lunging up to kiss Kurt solidly on the mouth. “Yes, yes, yes,” he continues, punctuating each word with a kiss as his hands work at Kurt’s belt.

“Good,” Kurt says, reaching down in a clumsy arc to begin working at Blaine’s belt as well. It doesn’t really work--there are too many limbs and too many odd angles and eventually Kurt has to stand up to get out of his jeans because they’re too tight and Blaine slides his own jeans off while this happens in order to speed up the process--but eventually they’re back where they started, only half undressed and with a small bottle of hand cream that Blaine swiped from Kurt’s vanity. 

It feels strange, still wearing his shirt when they’re about to do this, but Kurt’s not sure he’s ready to be completely naked. His shirt offers a bit of coverage as he moves to straddle Blaine once more and he tries not to look down at Blaine because it feels rude, somehow. Blaine’s hands find his hips once more, soft and stable and a little warm and dry against his bare skin. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Blaine says. “You can look.”

Kurt nods, and does so, just to try and prove to the both of them that he’s not scared. Blaine’s hard, of course, and it’s the first hard cock that’s not his own that he’s ever seen. It curves differently than his does, is a little shorter, the head flares differently. It’s flushed red and it looks so soft that Kurt just wants to touch it. So he does. He runs his fingers along the satiny length and Blaine’s breath just flutters out of him like a million butterflies. 

“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine says, opening his eyes once more. They’re glazed and intent. “Please.”

Kurt lowers his hips and Blaine’s cock is just as soft against his own. Blaine whines and digs his fingers in tight against Kurt’s ass before reaching for the forgotten bottle of cream and squeezing out a dollop into his hand. He reaches for their cocks then and the cream is still cold on Blaine’s fingers and they both wince and giggle at the touch. 

“Sorry,” Blaine whispers. “I’ve never actually done this before, I just read about it.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt says, and it is, because the cream warms quickly and eases the slide of their skin and the sensations build even more quickly than before. Blaine keeps his hand there, holding them in place, as Kurt drives the pistoning of his hips into his grip. Blaine’s even noisier than before, as if he’s finally given himself over to the fact that this is really happening. His legs flex and bend against the armrest of the sofa, using the leverage to propel Kurt on. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Blaine says, his eyes scrunched tight. “Oh fuck, god, Kurt, you feel, oh, oh, oh fuck, oh my fuck, oh god--”

Kurt’s not exactly silent himself. He’s so focused on the sounds Blaine is making and the slippery sounds of Blaine’s hand working them over and how good it all feels that he doesn’t even recognize the tiny grunts as coming from him at first. Once he does, however, it almost turns him on more. It’s filthy and foreign and so ridiculously good and he’s so fucking close, it’s just out of reach, it’s right there--

“Ohhh, fuck, I’m gonna come,” Blaine cries before his cock begins twitching and spilling warm and wet all over. It’s the last little push that takes Kurt over the edge as well. He comes with a cry before slumping over, putting all of his weight on the arm of the sofa behind Blaine’s head. 

It takes several long moments before Kurt’s senses begin to come back to him, and what felt decadently sensual mere moments before now feels kind of--messy. He sits up and begins easing his softening cock away from Blaine’s. He steals a glance at the clock on his vanity as he stands and realizes they’ve been busy longer than he realized. Burt will be home in about ten minutes. 

“I wish this couch was better for cuddling,” Blaine says, and Kurt takes a moment to look at the sleepy and sweetly sated face of his soulmate. “Next time we really have to use the bed.”

“Well, in order for there to be a next time, we really need to clean up this time,” Kurt says, and his body doesn’t really seem to have come back to him yet. “My dad’ll be home any minute.”

“Shit,” Blaine says, suddenly hopping up off the couch himself. Kurt can’t help but giggle a bit at the sight of him in his borrowed shirt, cum-covered stomach, bouncing, softened cock, and bare, hairy legs. “What?”

“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” Kurt says, and means it.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Burt makes it home, Kurt and Blaine are cleaned up, dressed, and bouncing around the kitchen to the sound of Kurt’s go-to cooking playlist. It feels comfortable to Kurt in a way he’s never felt comfortable with another person--particularly not in the kitchen. It’s a small space, really too small for two to work in without getting in each other’s way. But that sort of adds to the appeal for Kurt. He and Blaine are moving in and out of each other’s personal space--pressing up against a back, passing a hand along a waist, even a quick nuzzle here or there. The presence of Blaine’s body so close to his had been foreign only two days ago and thrilling just two hours ago, but now it feels like second nature to him. 

“Hey,” Blaine whispers when he catches Kurt watching him as he whisks up some whipped cream for dessert. Post-orgasm Blaine, Kurt has come to realize, is a much more peaceful version. He moves in a slippery, languid way that contrasts his usually defensive posture. His joints are looser, his hair messier, his smile easier. Kurt is enamored with this Blaine already.

“Hey yourself,” Kurt whispers back, and Blaine grins saucily as he leans over the island in an attempt to steal a kiss. It’s at that moment that Burt’s key sounds in the front door. Blaine immediately retreats to the opposite side of the island, leaving Kurt mourning the loss of the kiss that never was. 

“Anybody here?” Burt’s voice sounds out. “I’m guessing you are, based on this unfamiliar bike parked out here.”

“We’re in the kitchen, Dad,” Kurt says, before raising his eyebrows to Blaine. “Knock it off,” he whispers.

“What?” Blaine mouths, eyes wide. 

“Act normal,” Kurt mouths back. 

“I am normal,” Blaine mouths back again, more broadly. 

“You two lose your voices at school today?” Burt says, and he’s much closer now. Kurt glances over and sees him watching the two of them with amusement. “‘Cause I just heard you hollering a second ago.”

“We have voices,” Kurt says, turning back to Blaine, who has turned a shade or two paler than usual. “Blaine, this is my dad, Burt Hummel. Dad, this is Blaine Anderson, my--”

“The soulmate, right, I figured,” Burt says, walking down to the island. Blaine, to his credit, Kurt thinks, is standing as tall as he can and meeting Burt’s eye. Burt seems pleased by this, and he offers his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Anderson.”

“You, too, sir,” Blaine replies, taking his hand. 

“Firm handshake,” Burt says with a nod. “Someone taught you well.”

“I grew up in the country club circuit,” Blaine says with a wry grin. “You learn a good handshake before you learn to walk.”

“Country club, eh?” Burt says, putting the mail in his left hand down on the island. “That doesn’t fit with this bad seed reputation I’ve been hearing about from other parents.”

“Bad seed, dad? Really?” Kurt says, perhaps too quickly. “And the mail doesn’t go on the island, you know this. This is why I bought that sorting basket for you in the front hall.”

“I’ll get the mail back where it belongs in a minute, Kurt,” Burt says, holding up his hands. “Let me say hello to your guy friend here, first.”

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine says, turning warm and affectionate eyes in Kurt’s direction. “If my son came home with the school delinquent as a soulmate I’d have some questions, too.”

“See, Kurt?” Burt says, gesturing at Blaine but looking at Kurt. “Your old man’s not so unreasonable.”

“He just hasn’t gotten to see how unreasonable you are, yet,” Kurt says, putting the finishing touches on the pasta dish in front of him. “If you insist, however, go and put the mail back and meet us at the table and you can question him properly over dinner.”

“I hope you see what you’re getting into, here,” Burt says, but amicably grabs the mail and heads back toward the front hall. 

“He’s not so scary,” Blaine says, the color returning to his cheeks. 

“Yeah, well,” Kurt says. “We’ll see what you say after dinner.”

Blaine follows Kurt’s instructions and soon they’re all situated at the table with plates full. Kurt’s just about take his first bite when his dad says, “So how many schools you been to, exactly?”

“Dad,” Kurt says, letting his pasta fall to his plate. 

“What? A guy hears things,” Burt replies, reaching for his beer. 

“When he’s been asking around,” Kurt says. 

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine says again, but he’s still looking at his plate. 

“It’s okay to have a conversation with you,” Kurt replies. “Not an interrogation over the dinner table.”

“It’s not an interrogation!” Burt says. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Three,” Blaine replies, looking up. “I assume you mean high schools, not your standard primary school experiences. Three high schools, one for only a week. Kurt knows about all of this, if you’re expecting to surprise him with any of it.”

“Why would you think I’d want to surprise my son with information about you?” Burt replies, frowning a bit. 

“Because in my experience, it’s the kind of thing dads do,” Blaine says, meeting Kurt’s eyes briefly before turning his attention fully back to Burt. 

“Sounds like you’ve had some shitty experience with dads,” Burt says, leaning back slightly. 

“That would be an accurate assessment, yes,” Blaine says. “Still. I’m not letting that prejudice my expectations here, with you, and so I hope you don’t let your experience with quote-unquote troubled kids prejudice your expectations with me.”

“Now, I haven’t had any bad experiences with quote-unquote troubled kids, myself,” Burt says. “Technically, I was one of them myself.”

“What?” Kurt says. Burt smirks before taking another sip of his beer. 

“There are still things you don’t know about your old man,” Burt says with a chuckle. Blaine, for his part, chuckles a bit, too. There’s a beat of silence before Burt continues speaking. “I’ve got no problems with you, Blaine. What I’ve heard has come third-hand through some less-than-trustworthy sources.”

“Rachel,” Kurt grumbles, pushing his food around on his plate. He glances up to see how Blaine is reacting to Burt’s statement, and he’s surprised to see something akin to awe on Blaine’s face. Blaine is looking at Burt like he’s something foreign to him, and glorious. Kurt reminds himself to ask about Blaine’s father as soon as he gets a chance. 

“Now, you do something to prove those rumors right,” Burt says, voice serious, “Or you do something to hurt Kurt, and I will have a problem with you.”

“I would never hurt Kurt,” Blaine says, looking to Kurt with eyes wide. 

“Don’t say never,” Burt says, and Kurt opens his mouth to sputter out an argument. Burt holds up his hand. “Say not on purpose. Because you will hurt each other--that’s the way it goes. But if you aim not to, and you apologize and make amends when you do, that’s all I can ask for.”

“I promise,” Blaine says, his voice nearly a whisper. 

“Then tell me about yourself,” Burt says, spearing a bite of pasta with his fork. “I’m looking forward to getting to know my new son, so to speak.”


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of the dinner goes off without a hitch. Blaine and Burt find they have more things in common than Kurt ever expected, which is both relieving and terrifying at the same time. By the end of the night, Burt and Blaine are on the sofa watching the OSU game while Kurt peruses the most recent Vogue. During commercials, Blaine leans over and comments on the ads with him while Burt chuckles at them from his armchair. 

When the game ends, Burt stands from his chair with a stretch as he flips off the tv. Blaine looks up at him from where he’s leaning into Kurt’s shoulder. “I’m gonna call it a night,” Burt says. “And given that it’s still a school night, I’m thinking you two should as well.”

“It doesn’t seem right that soulmates should still be subjected to curfews,” Kurt says.

“There should be a soulmate-school night-curfew exception,” Blaine agrees. Burt snorts. 

“Yeah, I can see why people warned me about you,” Burt says. Blaine blushes. “It’s good to meet you, Anderson.”

“You too, sir,” Blaine says, moving to stand up and hold out his hand. Burt shakes his head with a grin but shakes it. “Can’t get the country club out, I’ve tried.”

“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” Burt says as he releases Blaine’s hand. “And Kurt?”

“Yes, Dad?” Kurt says, feeling warm and satisfied. 

“I’m headed up to bed,” Burt says. “I trust you to say goodnight to Blaine in a reasonable amount of time without me watchin’ over you.”

Kurt flushes. “Of course.”

“Just remember I’m right upstairs and keep it PG, okay? I’m not ready for that, yet.”

“Please leave this room,” Kurt says, moving his hands to his ears. “I’m not listening to you.”

Burt is cackling as he leaves the room to the sound of Kurt singing scales over him. When Kurt releases his ears and looks up at Blaine, he realizes Blaine’s face is more concerned than amused. 

“I’m sorry about him,” Kurt says, his face growing even hotter. “I think he lives to torment me.”

“Your dad is great, Kurt,” Blaine says, glancing at the staircase Burt disappeared up once more. “Really, really great.”

“He’s also a terror to keep an eye on, but yes,” Kurt says, standing up and clearing the glasses and popcorn bowl from the coffee table. Blaine grabs the extra glass that Kurt can’t quite manage to get hold of and follows him to the kitchen, where they deposit the glasses and empty bowl into the sink. “Thanks.”

Blaine hums in response, and Kurt steals a glance at him. “Okay, what’s wrong? You look all…” Kurt scrunches his face and makes a grumpy sound when he can’t come up with the words. Blaine chuckles, glances back at the door leading to the living area. 

“Can we go sit outside?” Blaine says. 

“Sure,” Kurt says, a feeling of wariness prickling up his spine and into his neck. Kurt leads Blaine over to the front hall and they get dressed in their jackets and shoes before stepping out onto the porch. Blaine immediately steps forward and settles in to sit on the front steps. Kurt follows suit and soon they’re sitting side by side, leaning into each other. 

“Okay, you’ve got me sufficiently worried,” Kurt says. “If you’re not okay with me singing in the house then we’ve got a serious problem moving forward.”

“No, I love your singing,” Blaine says, reaching his hand over to take Kurt’s. His fingers are cold and dry wrapping between Kurt’s. “I just didn’t want to talk about this in the house where your dad could overhear. It’s about...earlier.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, blinking. “Oh, did you not--was that bad?” Kurt’s heart pounds. “I’ve never done anything, I’ll get better--”

“No, no, Kurt, it was perfect,” Blaine’s eyes meet Kurt’s finally, and they’re shining with earnest affection. “Kurt it was perfect. I loved it, and I want to do it again.”

“Right now?” Kurt asks, surprised to find that the idea thrills him more than terrifies him. Blaine giggles, before sniffling from the cold. 

“I would not be opposed,” Blaine says. “But we can’t. Not until I’m sure you’re okay with it.”

“What?” Kurt says. “Why would I not be okay with it? It was my idea.”

“You looked so horrified when your dad mentioned our sex life,” Blaine says, squeezing Kurt’s hand. 

“Well of course I was,” Kurt says. “He’s my dad, I don’t want to talk to him about that--”

“And I remembered earlier, when we first got to the house,” Blaine continues. “You said you weren’t ready for sex, just for making out.”

“Well, I’m not,” Kurt says. “I will be soon, but--”

“Kurt, what we did this afternoon,” Blaine says, moving closer to him, his eyes still earnest. “That was sex. We had sex.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kurt says, feeling confused and completely awkward. His words feel like they’ve abandoned him. “I meant, you know--in the butt.”

Blaine goes from concerned gentleman to giggling schoolboy in a matter of seconds. Kurt huffs. 

“What else am I supposed to call it?” Kurt continues. Blaine’s giggles don’t subside--if anything, they get worse. “You know what I meant, stop it.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine squeaks out. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying--”

“You’re not trying, I can see you,” Kurt says, pulling his hands back so he can bury his head in his arms. 

“Oh, Kurt, honey,” Blaine says, his giggles slowing. “You’re adorable.”

“Adorable, great,” Kurt grumbles. “Just leave me here to wither away in humiliation.”

“I will not,” Blaine says, reaching his arms around Kurt’s hunched body and snuggling close to him. 

“Adorable is not exactly what I want my soulmate to call me when we’re talking about our first time,” Kurt sniffles, lifting his head. 

“If it makes you feel better,” Blaine says, “it is not the word I would use for the actual sex.”  
“It isn’t?” Kurt says, glancing over to meet Blaine’s eyes. Blaine leans in and softly presses his lips to Kurt. They linger, parting just enough to let Kurt’s bottom lip slip between them. Blaine gives a light suck to Kurt’s lip before nipping it with his teeth and letting it go. 

“You were there, right?” Blaine says, opening his eyes. “Kurt, it was hot. You were hot, Jesus.”

“I thought so,” Kurt says. “But what do I know?”

“It seems like you know a lot,” Blaine says, running his thumb over over the lip he’d just lavished with attention. “You don’t kiss like someone who has never been kissed before.”

Oh. Kurt flushes. “About that--”

Blaine blinks, pulls back. “I wasn’t your first kiss?”

“Not exactly--”

“You let me feel horrible because I’d kissed people before you and you didn’t tell me you’d kissed somebody too?” Blaine says, looking scandalized. 

“I didn’t mean for you to feel horrible!” Kurt says, reaching for Blaine’s hands. “It wasn’t the same thing--”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Blaine says, pulling further away. “You weren’t as slutty as I was?”

“It was just my friend Brittany!” Kurt says, a little too loud in the night air. He takes a breath, tries to pull himself back together. “I asked her to teach me how to kiss so that I could be prepared when I met you. It was no sexier than really wet piano lessons. Which, thank god I didn’t ask Ms. Weiner to give me kissing lessons instead of piano lessons--”

“That’s--” Blaine stops. “Well that last image is horrible, that’s awful.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

“But it’s kind of adorable that you took kissing lessons, though,” Blaine says, and Kurt can see him softening. “Like you.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” Kurt says, and Blaine smiles a small, pleased smile. 

“I don’t think I could ever be mad at you,” Blaine says. Kurt clucks his tongue. 

“I think you just jinxed it,” Kurt replies. “If my dad is to be believed.”

“Well then,” Blaine says, huffing out a breath as he gets as close to Kurt as possible without sitting on his lap. “We should make out a lot before that happens as, like, a buffer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kurt says, but he’s already leaning in. 

“Work with me,” Blaine says as he captures Kurt’s lips once more. His mouth is warm, soft, and wet, and Kurt sighs into it. They can’t get too caught up in each other, not outside with Kurt’s dad waiting just inside for Kurt’s return, but resisting the pull of each other is more than they can handle. The autumn air is cold and turning bitter, but Kurt only notices it as a stark contrast to the heat emanating from Blaine’s body. He buries himself further in Blaine’s embrace and Blaine’s chest rumbles with a low groan. 

“God, we have to stop,” Blaine says, breaking away from Kurt, looking stunned and flushed. “We have to stop before I can’t anymore.”

Kurt feels wild because of Blaine’s words. “Do you think it’s like this for everybody, when they find each other for the first time?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says, sweeping a hand over Kurt’s hair and down his neck. “I don’t know how it could possibly be, because people go about their daily lives all the time after finding their soulmates and all I want to do is just wrap myself in you for days. I don’t care about anything else.”

“I want that, too,” Kurt says. “Can we?”

“Ugh, not tonight,” Blaine says, his mouth finding its way to Kurt’s neck--and that’s still not something Kurt is used to, how that simple touch can feel like so much. “But this weekend…”

Kurt’s pulse speeds up. “What about this weekend?”

“My parents are going to Cleveland for a conference for my dad’s work,” Blaine replies. “Can we--”

“Yes,” Kurt says, turning his head to find Blaine’s mouth once more. 

“But your dad,” Blaine gasps out before Kurt’s mouth claims his again. 

“We’ll make it work,” Kurt sighs. “I promise.”


	11. Chapter 11

Somehow, Kurt thought that the promise of the weekend would be enough to tide them over until then--physically, at least. There were only two days, after all, and there was homework to be done and glee songs to prepare and hours to put in at the shop to butter his dad up for permission to attend a “slumber party at Rachel’s” Saturday night. He was pretty sure there simply wasn’t enough time in a day for anything more than a hug in the morning and a kiss goodnight. 

Kurt had underestimated the drive of the newly matched. 

There are the morning makeouts on the back of Blaine’s bike, tucked into the furthest, hidden corner of the school parking lot; the after glee and detention hour spent on Kurt’s couch; and finally, and most embarrassingly, the groping in the backroom of the tire and lube shop on Friday afternoon that is interrupted by Burt.

“This is not going to work in my favor trying to get permission to stay out tomorrow night,” Kurt sighs as he buttons up his pants, his cheeks burning. Blaine is unable to say anything. 

Saturday morning, Kurt wakes up early and cleans the entire house before Burt is even out of bed. He starts a fresh pot of coffee just as he hears his dad moving around upstairs and starts on an egg-white omelet for him. He sets the plate on the table just as Burt walks in the room. 

“What’s this?” Burt asks, sighing out a long, put upon exhale. 

“Breakfast,” Kurt says. 

“No bacon?” Burt asks, sinking into his chair heavily. 

“No,” Kurt says, pouring a mug full of coffee. “But there is cheese.”

“Thank god for small favors,” Burt says, picking up his fork. “This an apology? ‘Cause there are things a guy shouldn’t have to see at his place of work, Kurt.”

“I know, Dad, and yes, I’m sorry,” Kurt says, pouring a second cup of coffee before moving over to the table with both mugs in his hands. 

“I get how things are, you know, between new soulmates,” Burt says through his bite of food. “Just keep it somewhere more private, ya know?”

“We will Dad, I’m sorry,” Kurt says, passing one mug to Burt before sinking into the chair across from him. “And while I know you’re probably not inclined to want to do me any favors, after that, I was hoping I might be able to sleep over at Rachel’s--”

“No,” Burt says, putting his fork down and grabbing for the paper napkin Kurt had set aside for him. 

“No?” Kurt says, his voice tilting higher. “Dad--”

“We both know you’re not gonna stay over at Rachel’s, Kurt,” Burt says, wiping his mouth. “The only way this thing is gonna work is if we’re honest with each other.”

“Dad--”

“You want to stay over at Blaine’s,” Burt says. “And as much as I’m not ready for it, I know that I don’t really get any say in this anymore. I say no, you’ll find a way. And I don’t want to say no. I was you once, you know.”

“I know,” Kurt says, his hands twisting around his mug. Burt takes another bite.

“And I know how quickly you can lose that,” he says after he swallows. “You found each other now for a reason. You should get the chance to enjoy that. Just not in my shop.”

“I promise,” Kurt says, and Burt nods. He takes one more bite, then sets his fork down. 

“You’re old enough to make your own choices, Kurt,” Burt says. “And fate, or destiny, or whatever it is you think puts people together the way it does, it chose Blaine for you, and it chose to put you two together in the same high school for a reason. Just remember that it doesn’t mean you have to become everything to each other all at once.”

“Dad,” Kurt says, his face flushing. “We do not need to talk about this.”

“Yes, we do,” Burt says. “Trust me when I say that I hoped we wouldn’t have this talk until you were thirty, but here we are.”

“Dad, we’re not--”

“You’re not yet,” Burt says. “Which is good, because you guys only got matched a couple days ago. But I’m not stupid, Kurt. I may not know what goes on between two guys behind closed doors--though you two gave me a pretty good lesson last night--”

“Can we stop talking about last night?” Kurt says, pushing away from the table and standing up. 

“You don’t have to do everything all at once,” Burt says. “Whatever everything is for you, I don’t know. You have a night together it doesn’t mean you have to have sex. You can take time getting to know each other. Just remember that you matter, Kurt. And what you want to do matters, not what you think you’re supposed to do.”

“Got it,” Kurt says, his voice and eyes softening. Burt nods. 

“Good,” he says. “And use protection.”

“Dad.”

“I’ll buy you some.”

“I’m leaving this room,” Kurt says, putting down his mug and walking toward the living room. 

“Tell Blaine I’ll buy him some too, you should both be prepared!” Burt hollers after Kurt, who is headed toward his basement room to call Blaine and give him the good news. 

Blaine assures Kurt that he has plenty of protection, should that become an issue, which he’s not saying it has to be. Kurt hurries off the phone, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by the weight of expectation.  
The rest of the day goes by like a tenuous daydream. Blaine texts midafternoon to confirm that his parents have left for their conference, and asks Kurt what his favorite takeout is. Kurt fumbles for more than an hour over his travel bag, filling and refilling it with the necessities for the night. First he fills it the way he always would for a sleepover; then he empties it and fills it only with his smallest, most flattering underwear and a change of clothes, but no pajamas. He ends up somewhere in the middle--the underwear stays, but so do his silk pajamas. He packs the travel-sized version of his favorite products as well as a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash, though he’s sure Blaine has plenty of the latter two to share. He throws in the bottle of hand cream that Blaine had used the last time they’d gotten off together--the only time they’d gotten off together. Kurt’s used the cream the last two nights on his own, lying on the sofa and recreating the memory the best he could. The scent of the cream is irrevocably linked with sex for Kurt, now. It seems wrong to leave it behind, even if Blaine has something better. 

Even if Kurt doesn’t even know what something better would be, really. He sits on the edge of his bed, next to the unzipped travel bag, and wonders exactly what is in store for him. He knows Blaine had laughed so hard when he’d mentioned butt-related things--had even taken to texting him links to songs like “What What? (In da Butt)” and “Doin’ Da Butt” for the rest of the night--but the truth was, he isn’t really sure what else to call it. And Blaine had said there were plenty of other things they could do, but what were they? Half of Kurt can’t wait to find out, while the other half of him figures he is probably better off just canceling and watching a Project Runway marathon instead. 

The first half wins, if only because that is the route that leads him closest to Blaine, and even if he is partially terrified he is also terribly, terribly smitten. It’s an awkward goodbye that he shares with his father, knowing full well that Burt knows exactly what he’s up to, and Kurt can’t figure out how anyone makes it through becoming an adult and the humiliation that comes with it. He throws his travel bag in the backseat and takes a good five minutes setting up the right travel music before he finally gets on the road. 

(For his part, Burt Hummel spends those five minutes watching Kurt’s car and fighting the urge to run out and tell him that he doesn’t have to go if he’s not ready, that he and Blaine can have a sleepover on another day, when he’s older. But he doesn’t.)

Blaine’s house is further out of the city limits than Kurt’s is, and he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised when he realizes that Blaine lives in the wealthiest subdivision Lima has. You can take the boy out of the country club, but you can’t take the country club out of the boy, he remembers Blaine saying. The boy clearly hadn’t been taken very far out of the country club at all. 

There’s a car in the driveway, a Lexus, but there’s plenty of space so Kurt pulls the Navigator in next to it. It figures Blaine has a car as well, Kurt reasons. Kurt reaches for his bag before closing the door behind him, willing his heart to settle back into place. 

He walks up to the front door and rings the doorbell, wondering if knocking would’ve been more casual. He’s a few minutes early--not many--but he hopes that won’t be a problem. He wonders if Blaine is as anxious as he is. 

He also wonders who the older man is opening the door instead of Blaine. 

“Can I help you?” the man says, and he already sounds hassled. Kurt swallows. 

“I’m here to see Blaine?” Kurt says, adjusting his carryall and hoping he’s gotten the house right. The man rolls his eyes. 

“Of course you are,” the man says. 

“God, stop being such a dick,” Kurt hears Blaine holler from further in the house. “Can you at least let him in the house? It’s freezing out.”

“I’m sorry, whoever you are,” the man goes on. “Blaine won’t able to have any visitors this weekend. I’m not sure what he told you--”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, suddenly skidding into view. “I am so sorry. He was supposed to be gone.”

“Do you do this every weekend we leave town?” the man says, turning to Blaine. “Have boys over?”

“No, Jesus--”

“I thought we’d gotten this out of your system,” the man says, and Kurt finally, finally realizes that the man is Blaine’ s father. They have the same profile, and the same angry set of the jaw. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blaine says, before looking to Kurt with sad eyes. “I am so sorry.”

“You’re apologizing to him?” Blaine’s father says. “Not to me, for breaking our house rules? Do you even know what his name is?”

“Who is this version of me you have in your head?” Blaine says, throwing up his hands. “Of course I know his name.”

“Well how should I know?” Blaine’s dad continued, his hands going to his hips. He’s still wearing his winter coat, Kurt realizes, and has his keys in his hand. “This kid probably knows you better than I do.”

“That would be a definite,” Blaine says, his eyebrows raising in what appears to Kurt to be a very sassy gesture. “God, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to subject him to you this soon.”

“I can leave,” Kurt finally says, and both Andersons turn to look at him--Blaine looking apologetic, and Mr. Anderson looking like he’d actually forgotten Kurt was still there. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t,” Blaine says, reaching out his hand. It’s not nearly close enough to make contact with Kurt’s arm, but Kurt feels stuck to the stop nonetheless. “I’m really sorry for this, I should’ve handled this differently--”

“It’s okay,” Kurt says, wanting nothing more than to make Blaine feel better. 

“Blaine?” Mr. Anderson says, and his voice is different, softer. 

“This is Kurt, Dad,” Blaine says, his eyes never leaving Kurt’s. “He’s my soulmate.”

“Hi,” Kurt says, looking at the stunned face of the man in front of him. He offers a tiny wave, but Mr. Anderson just gapes. 

“Your--” Mr. Anderson finally manages, before shaking his head. “Blaine, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I wanted to keep something for myself that you couldn’t ruin,” Blaine says, turning to look at his dad. “I didn’t want to have to share him yet.”

“When did you--” Mr. Anderson says, looking between them. 

“Earlier this week,” Blaine says. “Now will you please let my soulmate in before he freezes to death on our front stoop?”

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Anderson says, stepping back and making room for Kurt, who isn’t sure he’s really ready to enter into the lion’s den in front of him. He looks at Blaine, who looks hopeful and warm despite the anger that’s just been pouring off of him. He steps through the door. Blaine’s hands immediately reach out to take his bag from him. 

“Hello, Kurt,” Mr. Anderson says, reaching a hand forward. Kurt takes it and grips it firmly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.”

“You mean like you not accusing him of being some nameless hookup?” Blaine says, coming back for Kurt’s coat.

“I mean like you actually telling me about his existence,” Blaine’s dad says, before catching himself and biting his lip. “And like you not having him over here without permission.”

“Dad, can my soulmate stay over this weekend while you’re out of town?” Blaine says as he hangs Kurt’s coat up on the rack. 

“Shit,” Blaine’s dad says, glancing at his watch. “I really have to get on the road.”

“Bye,” Blaine says. Blaine’s dad looks up, looking resolved. “You can say no,” Blaine goes on. “That’s cool. I’ll just go over to his house instead.”

“We have to talk about this when I come back,” Blaine’s dad says. “For real, this time.”

“Sure,” Blaine says, his hand coming to wind into Kurt’s. Kurt squeezes his fingers hard, and Blaine glances over at him, a look of adoration on his face. Blaine’s dad heaves a heavy sigh, and Kurt looks up to see him staring at their hands and shaking his head. 

“Kurt, we’ll have to have you over for dinner next week when Clarice and I are in town,” Mr. Anderson replies. Kurt blinks. 

“Oh, yes, okay,” Kurt answers. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Such manners,” Mr. Anderson says, smiling wryly. “What a pair you two make.”

“What was fate thinking?” Blaine says, his jaw setting. 

“Blaine…” Mr. Anderson starts, but trails off. “I have to go.”

“See you on Monday,” Blaine replies. Mr. Anderson nods. 

“Pleasure meeting you, Kurt,” Mr. Anderson says. “Blaine--”

Blaine stills, but says nothing. Kurt grips his hand even tighter. 

“I’m happy for you,” Mr. Anderson says, before looking at the ground. He leaves without saying anything else.

There are a few moments of silence after he leaves before Blaine exhales, deflating next to Kurt. 

“God, that was--” Blaine says, shaking his head. “That was so much worse than I thought it was going to be.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t--” Kurt says, stopping himself mid-sentence when he realizes he has no idea where he’s going with it. “Wow.”

“I had all these plans for when you got over here,” Blaine says, pulling his hand away from Kurt to wrap his arms around his own waist. “Fighting with my dad was not one of them.”

“Is it always like that with you two?” Kurt asks, and Blaine chuckles. 

“More or less,” Blaine answers, turning to face Kurt. “I don’t want to get into a whole conversation about it in the front hall though, can we go sit down? I have hot cocoa.”

“Hot cocoa sounds perfect,” Kurt says, and Blaine grins. Blaine leads Kurt down the hall threw high-ceilinged, pristine rooms until they finally reach a large sitting room, cozy with its lit fire and a plethora of well-coordinated throw blankets on the immense sofa sitting opposite a flat screen tv. There’s a heavy oak table in the corner with a half-played game of chess on it. The art is tasteful and the room is masterfully decorated. Kurt comments on it. 

“My aunt is an interior designer,” Blaine explains. “My mom let her take over the whole design scheme for the house.”

“It’s perfect,” Kurt says. “It’s sophisticated without being cold. It feels so different from the rest of the house. I love it.”

Blaine’s grin grows, and Kurt’s not sure why until he leans in to hug Kurt suddenly and securely. “I’ve never told anyone this,” Blaine whispers into his ear. “But my aunt let me design this room.”

Kurt gasps, looking around. “Why haven’t you told anyone, Blaine? It’s perfect.”

“Because if my dad knew he’d want to change it,” Blaine says, letting go of Kurt slowly. “Best to just keep it to myself.”

“I love it,” Kurt says, reaching for one last grasp of Blaine’s hand. He wonders if Blaine realizes just how much he means “I love you.” He’s not sure if he’s read for that yet. Blaine’s eyes begin to shine, and he pulls his lips in between his teeth as he blinks rapidly. 

“Let me go get that cocoa,” Blaine says, squeezing Kurt’s hand before he leaves. Kurt wanders around, looking at all the minute details of the room. Blaine slips back in minutes later, with a tray full with two mugs of hot cocoa, a bowl with tiny marshmallows, and a bottle with a green label. 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Kurt says, reaching for the bottle. Blaine chuckles, a bit nervously.

“I know you said you don’t drink,” Blaine says, “And I’m not pressuring you, I promise. But I could really use a drink after all that, and I am a fan of peppermint schnapps in hot cocoa. So if you want some, it’s there. If not, don’t worry.”

“I’ll try it,” Kurt says, and Blaine takes the bottle from him and pours a generous dollop in each mug. He adds a few marshmallows and hands the first mug to Kurt who accepts it with a smile. 

“To making it through the first meeting with Dad alive,” Blaine says, holding up his mug for Kurt to toast. He does, but not as enthusiastically as Blaine does. Blaine takes an impressively deep pull from the beverage, given how hot both cups still are. Kurt blows on his before attempting it. The peppermint is perfect with the chocolate, and the alcohol is only a sharp bite at the end. He takes another sip and feels the minty burn settle down his throat and spread out into his limbs. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and Blaine nods. 

“I am,” Blaine says, looking at Kurt with soft eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, it sucked, you were there. And I’m really sorry that you had to be there for that. But truth be told, it could’ve gone so much worse. And he’s gone, and you’re here, and this cocoa is hitting the fucking spot.”

Kurt breaks out into giggles, embarrassed at how silly and tingly he feels when he’s barely made a dent into the cocoa. It can’t be all the schnapps though, he knows; a good portion of what he’s feeling is just Blaine being next to him. 

“You’re so fucking adorable,” Blaine says, putting his mug down and reaching over to card his hand through the back of Kurt’s hair. 

“Careful,” Kurt says. Blaine shakes his head. 

“You and your fucking hair,” Blaine says, and then he’s leaning in. Kurt opens his mouth to let him in and the heat of Blaine’s tongue is on his in seconds. Kurt feels weightless but grounded in the grip of Blaine’s fingers in his hair and the weight of his other hand teasing lightly along his leg. 

It doesn’t take long until Kurt is leaning back, safe in the nest of throw blankets behind him, while Blaine chases after Kurt’s mouth until he’s stretched out on top of him. Their kisses deepen, and Blaine’s hand is no longer content just teasing. It traces up the curve of Kurt’s hip and under the hem of his shirt. Kurt rolls his hips in an attempt to urge Blaine’s fingers the last few centimeters until they reach his skin. Blaine grins against his mouth when he does, and Kurt takes the chance to gasp for breath. 

“I missed you,” Blaine murmurs, before leaning back in. This time he finds the skin of Kurt’s neck with his mouth, and it’s too much for Kurt, whose cock is now painful where it’s trapped against his thigh. 

“Blaine,” Kurt whimpers, and Blaine rolls his hips down just long enough for Kurt to feel that Blaine is in the same predicament. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Blaine asks breathlessly. “If you’re ready for that, I mean--”

“I’m ready,” Kurt says. “Please.”


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine’s room is on the second floor of the house and it looks like it belongs to two different people. Underneath are the bare bones of the same design scheme that fills the rest of the house--hunter green striped wallpaper, plaid bedspread, trophies and fencing posters. On the surface are the accoutrements of the angry young man he’s become. His leather jacket is thrown haphazardly on the back of his desk chair. One wall has stripes of butcher paper hung on it with a basket of markers next to it. Each stripe of paper is filled with sketches and writing; amid various “fuck yous” and another angry scribbles, Kurt notices his name prominently placed, even from a distance. 

“Come here,” Blaine says, and Kurt turns to see he’s gotten closer than Kurt realized. Blaine’s hand finds Kurt’s, and he uses the leverage to pull him in closer. Blaine may be shorter than Kurt, but it feels like he’s towering over Kurt just from the intensity in his eyes. They’re barely touching but Kurt is acutely aware of every place their skin is in contact. 

There’s a deep, long breath between them; for Kurt, it feels like the moment just before stepping off the diving board into the pool. His whole body knows he’s on the precipice of something. 

Then he exhales, and they’re kissing. They’ve done this a lot over the past week, but this is different already, he can tell. Before, the kissing was always the point. Now, it’s just a warm up. 

And Kurt is definitely getting warmed up; his skin prickles with heat, and he desperately wants to remove at least one of the layers he’s wearing but he doesn’t know if it’s too fast. Blaine is only in a t-shirt, and Kurt wonders if it’s presumptuous to just catch up to that. He wonders if it’s presumptuous to take his own clothes off. He has no idea what he’s doing at all. 

“Hey,” Blaine whispers through barely parted lips. Kurt opens his eyes and sees the gold of his eyes locked on him. “You okay? You with me?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, leaning forward to close the distance between them again. Blaine lets him, but pulls back a few seconds later. 

“You’re shaking, Kurt,” Blaine says, stroking his thumb over the curve of Kurt’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, feeling embarrassment begin to course through him. Blaine hushes him as he wraps one arm snugly around his waist. 

“Don’t apologize,” Blaine says, kissing Kurt’s cheek damply. “There’s not any rush here. We can go back downstairs and drink cocoa.”

“No, I want to be here,” Kurt says, lifting his gaze to meet Blaine’s once more. “I was just overthinking.”

“What were you thinking?” Blaine asks, tilting his head. 

“I want to take my clothes off,” Kurt blurts out, before rolling his eyes. Blaine blinks his eyes wider. “I mean, I want you to take my clothes off.”

“Both of these are totally acceptable options,” Blaine says, grinning. 

“Just my shirt?” Kurt says as a question, and Blaine nods. “And my vest, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Blaine says, his voice an airy echo as all of his attention is focused on the buttons of Kurt’s vest. He takes a long moment to run his fingers over the gold-plated buttons on the vest. He then works his fingers under and over each one until the vest falls open. Kurt exhales then, having been completely unaware that he was holding his breath until that second. Blaine’s fingers move deftly up the front of Kurt’s torso, and the light touch is maddening for Kurt, who suddenly wants Blaine’s hands on his bare skin more than anything. Blaine slides the vest from Kurt’s shoulders and lets it fall to rest on the bench at the foot of his bed. Kurt’s breath catches as Blaine’s fingers resume their work, returning to Kurt’s waist and feeling for the hem of his shirt. They trace around, lifting the material in teasingly small increments until Kurt raises his arms and helps guide not only the top layer but also his undershirt up and over his head. 

Kurt is suddenly very, very self-conscious, but before he can bury himself too deeply in his own head he takes a moment to look at Blaine. Blaine’s eyes are blown black and glazed over with a hungry look. They’re following every movement of Blaine’s fingers as they return to trace along Kurt’s skin, finding freckles amid the rib lines on his sides, never tickling. Kurt inhales sharply and that spurs Blaine’s tentative touches on. His fingers find Kurt’s nipples and brush lightly again each one. Kurt shivers, his skin prickling in a rush of goosebumps along his arms. 

“Sorry,” Blaine murmurs, moving closer. Kurt takes advantage of the movement to reach out for the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt as well. The touch of Kurt’s hands startles Blaine, who looks up from Kurt’s torso long enough to meet Kurt’s gaze.

“Fair’s fair,” Kurt says, feeling very impressed with his own boldness. Blaine looks down at Kurt’s hands before looking up at Kurt through his dense lashes. A coy smirk plays over Blaine’s lips, and he raises his arms in a mimic of Kurt earlier. Kurt slides Blaine’s t-shirt up and over his head, and Blaine takes over and pulls the shirt off the rest of the way before throwing it on the ground. 

There’s so much more of Blaine to look at now, but there’s really only one thing in particular that Kurt can see: Blaine’s soulmate mark, pressed high and bold in the upper part of his chest. It’s not like Kurt can recognize the print as his own just by looking at it, but something deep inside of him pulls possessively at the sight. It’s the first time they’ve been shirtless together, Kurt realizes, and so it’s the first time he’s actually seen it. But it’s not just the mark that catches his attention; it’s also the words inked around it. 

“I will wait forever for you,” Kurt reads as he runs his thumb over them. Blaine’s eyes slip blissfully closed as Kurt performs his ministrations. “This is your tattoo?”

“The one and only,” Blaine says, blinking his eyes open once more. “After everything. I made myself a vow. I made you a vow.”

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes. Blaine reaches for Kurt’s waist and pulls it tightly against him, burying his face in Kurt’s neck and inhaling, exhaling. 

“Please,” Blaine sighs, the word barely audible. “Please, Kurt.” Blaine’s skin is warm and soft and almost teasingly gentle where it comes to rest in several places against Kurt’s own. Kurt isn’t sure exactly what Blaine is asking for, but he’s willing to give him almost anything at this point. 

“Tell me what to do,” Kurt says, and Blaine groans against his neck. Blaine’s hips rock forward and Kurt feels him hard against his thigh. 

“Can we lie down?” Blaine asks, pulling back just enough to be able to make eye contact. He looks absolutely wrecked, and Kurt can’t help but feel flush with pride at the sight. “Is that okay?”

“I thought that’s what we were up here for,” Kurt says, and Blaine just lunges into Kurt with everything he has. The force sends Kurt backward, and he fumbles a bit over the bench before regaining his balance and sliding back onto Blaine’s bed. It’s easier now, now that they’re both more worked up, to figure out what to do next; he lies back, skidding the best he can toward the head of the bed, and Blaine follows until his entire body hovers above Kurt. Kurt’s legs have fallen open in the process, making it easier for Blaine’s knees to settle in between them. He’s gentlemanly keeping his hips a fair distance from Kurt’s, but the rather obscene way his jeans are tented is kind of ruining the effect. 

The maneuvering onto the bed has dissipated some of the heat between them, and Blaine grins when he settles himself in place. “Hey,” he says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hmm,” Kurt hums, nodding. “I like how you keep your bed made. Very chic.”

“Shame we’ll have to mess it all up, isn’t it?” Blaine says, and finally, finally he lowers himself on top of Kurt. It’s a relief for only a second; then the pleasant weight of Blaine’s body and the distinct press of his hard dick against Kurt’s hip cause the heat in Kurt’s belly to rekindle. As much as he’d enjoyed being on top of Blaine the last time they’d been in such an intimate position, he really, really likes this, too. He likes feeling just how much Blaine wants him in every tiny roll of his hips; he likes seeing it in the way Blaine bites his lip when he pulls back, trying so hard to stop himself from just taking. 

“What do you want?” Kurt asks, lifting his hips to meet Blaine’s the next time Blaine’s roll forward. Blaine whimpers, dropping his head so that his forehead meets Kurts. Their hips meet again, keeping up a slow drag of motion back and forth, not quite connecting the way either of them would like. 

“Like before?” Blaine asks, the words trailing off into a sigh. “Like on your couch, but properly, this time.”

“I thought we did pretty well last time,” Kurt says, and Blaine nips at his jaw lightly. It tickles. 

“I want to take my time,” Blaine says. He grinds his hips down more decisively this time, and Kurt lets out a broken moan when the pressure hits his cock in all the right ways. 

“I don’t think there’s going to be much time to take,” Kurt says, already feeling desperate from just the little bit of contact he’s getting. It’s just so much, how warm Blaine is, how heavy, how good his skin smells where Kurt’s nose is pressed against his hairline, how electric every one of Blaine’s breathy exhalations feels on all of his nerve endings. He could come just like this, he’s pretty sure. 

“Then we’ll just have to go again,” Blaine says, his voice buoyant and pleased. 

“Blaine,” is all Kurt can manage to say. He wants so much. He definitely wants more than just feeling Blaine through layers of clothing. “Pants.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything, just moves his hand to Kurt’s waistband and begins maneuvering the belt buckle the best he can with one hand. Kurt follows suit, and he’s a little better off because he can use both hands on Blaine. It’s a flurry of hands and belts and zippers and buttons for a bit before Blaine is pulling back to work his jeans down over his hips while Kurt shimmies out of his. Blaine returns immediately, and Kurt is enamored by the sight of his dopey grin coupled with his flushed-red, hard cock bobbing between his legs. Blaine settles in on top of Kurt, and it’s so much more than it was. It’s easier to line up their cocks properly, of course, but that’s hardly the only sensation driving Kurt crazy at the moment. There is also the rather innocent thrill of their legs entangling and the smooth skin along the cut of Blaine’s hips, which Kurt has to explore with his fingers. This leads Kurt’s hands back until he’s gripping the supple curve of Blaine’s ass as Blaine drives his hips down in an attempt to slide his cock alongside Kurt’s for greater friction. 

It’s great, fantastic, really, but it’s missing something. That’s when Kurt remembers. “I brought the lotion,” Kurt says, and Blaine slows his hips but doesn’t stop, frowning just a bit. “The lotion we used last time. If--” Kurt’s voice catches at a particularly good thrust. “If you want. I--It’s downstairs.”

Blaine is grinning as he leans in to kiss Kurt, harder and messier, now. “God, Kurt, you just--God, you fucking kill me.”

“Please,” Kurt whimpers, not even sure what he’s asking for. Blaine thrusts one more time, before rolling aside. Kurt reaches for Blaine to pull him back just as Blaine reaches for his nightstand drawer. 

“I have something,” Blaine says, and his cheeks are pink. “I might have picked it up. For tonight. Just in case.”

Blaine procures a bottle of lube from the drawer and doesn’t even bother trying to close the drawer before he hurries back to Kurt. Blaine hovers just out of reach as he squeezes a dollop of lube onto his hands and begins rubbing it between his palms--”I want to warm it up this time,” he says. Finally, he reaches out for Kurt’s cock and takes it easily in his hand. Kurt’s hips push up of their own accord, moving his cock further into a Blaine’s loose grip. Blaine isn’t going for stimulation, though, he’s going for coverage, and once he’s satisfied he turns his attention to himself. He adds a little more lube straight from the bottle, and Kurt is dying as he watches Blaine’s hand work over himself with casual, assured ease. He’s almost willing to just tell Blaine to finish himself off so he can watch, but then Blaine is moving back on top of him and yeah, this is so much better. Blaine reaches one slippery hand in between them to pull their cocks together, and the time for being tentative is over. 

The slide is exquisite, even better than Kurt remembers. Blaine’s huffing small whines and gasps with each movement, and everything in Kurt is building and bursting and it doesn’t take long until he’s on the edge and he’s trying so hard to hold it off, to keep it at bay, that he’s biting his lip and scrunching his face and digging his fingers so deep and hard into Blaine’s ass that he’s probably going to leave marks. He doesn’t want it to be over so soon.

“Kurt, God, Kurt, baby, it’s okay,” Blaine says between moans. “God, it’s okay, it’s okay, come on, Kurt, come on. Please, please, please, come for me, Kurt, please.”

Kurt couldn’t stop it if he tried. He sees stars as his limbs seize up and he’s coming harder than he ever has. It takes a few seconds for him to come back to himself and realize that though Blaine has slowed the movement of his hips that he hasn’t come himself. Blaine is tracing the head of his cock through the come on Kurt’s stomach with each gentle slide. Kurt’s softening cock is quickly turning too sensitive, however, and he winces with the next thrust. 

“Sorry,” Blaine says, pulling his hips back. 

“You haven’t come yet,” Kurt says. “You can keep going.”

“You’re sensitive,” Blaine says, but the way his hips twitch in mid-air shows that he’d really like to keep going. Kurt’s orgasm-addled brain manages to come up with a plan. He reaches out and takes Blaine’s cock in his hand. Blaine’s hips stutter as they try to move closer. It’s a little sticky, and the slide isn’t quite right, but Blaine quickly grabs the bottle of lube and pours a little more and soon it’s perfect. Blaine’s still leaning over Kurt, bracing himself with his hands, and Kurt is working Blaine over with determination. He’s driven by the look of pleasure on Blaine’s features and the whispers of adoration that are coming from his lips. 

It’s not easy, jerking someone else off from this angle, but Kurt does the best he can. It must be pretty good because it doesn’t take long before Blaine’s orgasm hits and he’s coming in thick, white spurts all over Kurt’s abdomen. 

Blaine collapses against Kurt’s side, and they lie there in a sticky heap for a few moments before Blaine vocalizes what Kurt is thinking. 

“We,” he says as he rolls over to press a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder, “are fucking awesome at that.”

Kurt laughs, moving his arm so Blaine can snuggle closer to his side. “We are also disgusting.”

Blaine huffs out a sound of triumph before he reaches across Kurt’s body for the box of tissues he keeps on his nightstand. He does a haphazard job of cleaning them up, but it’s good enough for the time being. 

“First, we nap,” Blaine declares, curling up to Kurt’s side once more. “Then, we go again.”


	13. Chapter 13

The rest of the night plays out exactly as Kurt expects: there’s a break for food at one point (Blaine had planned ahead and stocked the kitchen with easy-to-grab snacks and meals so there was no need to get dressed to greet a delivery driver or run to the store) but most of their time is spent exploring each other with their hands and mouths. They haven’t progressed to “butt stuff,” as Blaine has taken to calling it, but they do progress to blow jobs, which Kurt is somewhat stymied to realize include no blowing whatsoever. Kurt keeps this revelation to himself; he’s not confident enough yet to deal with being laughed out of bed. 

But blowjobs, once Kurt truly understands what they are, are a revelation. In theory, Kurt has to admit that mouths and dicks didn’t really seem to make much sense together, but he also has to admit that he was terribly, terribly wrong about that. Blaine, for his part, seems to have had no such hesitation; his murmured “Can I blow you?” against the shell of Kurt’s ear is accompanied by a look of such enthusiasm that Kurt is incapable of saying no. And he’s so, so glad he doesn’t.

Blaine’s clearly studied up on the subject, which Kurt has to appreciate, though he literally has nothing to compare it to. Blaine moves confidently, with determined ease, and it does much to ease Kurt’s nerves. Still, as Blaine’s mouth tracks slowly and wetly down the stretch of his torso, there’s a momentary tension that seizes Kurt, filled with terror about the unknown and worry about his own cleanliness (they’ve been at it for hours, after all, and they haven’t showered yet which is going against every single one of Kurt Hummel’s Rules for Personal Hygiene). Blaine pauses just above the jut of Kurt’s hip, and his wet tongue turns into a soft kiss and a gentle nuzzle. 

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Blaine says. “I am going to take such good care of you.”

Kurt nods and gives himself over to Blaine’s grip on his hips the best he can. Then Blaine’s mouth is heading even closer to Kurt’s hard dick, and Kurt sucks in a deep breath to steady himself. His mouth doesn’t touch Kurt, however, not anywhere; Blaine’s breath teases a promise against his skin that his hand fulfills, ghosting lightly over Kurt’s entire length and back. Kurt’s hips squirm with familiar anticipation. Blaine strokes him once more before settling the forearm of his opposite hand across the curve of Kurt’s lower abdomen and leaning in to make contact at the base with his lips. 

It’s soft, barely a glancing touch before Blaine is pulling away again. He’s back in seconds, though, this time dragging his tongue up the entire length from root to tip, and it’s enough to make Kurt convulse. Blaine’s forearm presses down a little more firmly as he guides the head of Kurt’s cock into his mouth. He sucks once, just gently, almost experimentally, and Kurt comes immediately. 

It takes a few seconds for the apologies to begin rolling out of Kurt’s mouth. It takes just a moment longer for Kurt to realize that Blaine isn’t any better off. Blaine’s breath is hot and heavy against Kurt’s thigh, where he’s collapsed. He rolls over onto his back beside Kurt and through Kurt’s haze of embarrassment he can make out the telltale signs of Blaine’s softening cock and traces of white dotting his abdomen.

“Oh,” Kurt says. 

“Yeah, oh,” Blaine replies, tilting his head up to make eye contact with Kurt. “That good, huh?”

“You too?” Kurt replies, his breathing still too heavy. 

“Jesus Christ, Kurt,” Blaine says. “You’ve got to try that.”

And he does, a bit later, with Blaine coaxing him through it by repeating all the internet-resourced lessons he’s learned. Kurt watches his teeth, uses his hand so he doesn’t feel pressured to take it all in at once, focuses on the ridge on the underside of the head where he knows from hands-on experience Blaine is most sensitive. Blaine lasts a little longer than Kurt did--a benefit of all of their mutual orgasms so far, Kurt tells himself--and it’s just long enough for Kurt to get used to the way Blaine smells and tastes here, the way it is so different yet so similar to the smell and the taste of the rest of him. Kurt gets bolder as Blaine’s instructions die away into a series of breathy grunts and whispered encouragements and “Fuck, Kurt, oh my god”s. He runs his free hand up the inside of Blaine’s thigh, grinning when Blaine’s grunts turn into whines. He sucks a little harder as his hand reaches the weight of Blaine’s balls, which he barely has time to touch before Blaine is gritting out “I’m gonna come” and his cock begins pulsing in Kurt’s mouth. He doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t thought ahead this far ahead at all. It’s thick, salty, hot, and just a little bitter and he swallows some but there’s just so much. He pulls back and lets the rest drip down his hand. Blaine’s eyes are still closed and his chest is heaving. Kurt lifts his hand, letting Blaine’s cock fall to his abdomen. His hand is wet and sticky and he’s not sure what drives him to do it but he lets his tongue dart out to lick at some of it, exploring the taste again. He’s not sure whether he likes it or not. 

“God, you’re trying to kill me,” Blaine says, and Kurt looks up to see Blaine watching him with dark eyes. Kurt blinks and realizes what Blaine means. He lets his tongue lick at the crease between his fingers once more. “I can’t get hard again that fast, Kurt, come on. Give a guy a break.”

Blaine reaches does then and grabs Kurt’s arm and uses what leverage he has to pull Kurt up alongside his body. Their mouths find each other almost like second nature. It’s a lazy kiss, one full of affection but no fire. They’re sated for now. 

It’s around midnight when Kurt wakes up next, and he feels absolutely disgusting. He’s freezing--they’d fallen asleep without the covers on because the covers are a mess beneath them--his mouth tastes like he’s swallowed the ocean, and he’s pretty sure he smells like an animal. He manages to extract himself from Blaine’s grasp and sets about finding a towel. It’s easy enough--there’s a linen closet in Blaine’s en suite bathroom--and finally he’s stepping into the spray of a hot shower. His skin is sore, sticky, and it feels completely unfamiliar to him now. He’s happy to see that Blaine has decent products in his shower so he doesn’t have to fret about even more damage to his skin. The shower is like heaven raining down on him and he stands there for several minutes just soaking up the warmth. Once properly heated, he lathers up his hair and enjoys the feeling of the suds coursing down his back. It feels like the tickle of a finger on his spine, a press on his hip--an arm around his waist…

Kurt turns in Blaine’s grasp and comes face to face with him. “Surprise,” Blaine says, leaning in to press his lips to Kurt’s briefly. 

“How did I not hear you?” Kurt asks, letting the water hit him in the back of his neck. Blaine shrugs and reaches around Kurt for a bottle of body wash. 

“You were enjoying that shampoo too much,” Blaine says as he pours out some soap into his hand and begins lathering it between his palms. “I was getting a little jealous.”

Kurt doesn’t have time to ask what Blaine means; Blaine’s soaped-up hand reaches out and takes Kurt’s semi-hard cock in hand and pumps it to full hardness. Kurt reaches out and presses his hand against the wall of the shower for support as Blaine moves closer and adds his own hard cock to the mix. He works them both over and over, and Kurt would be amused by the soap bubbles forming from the friction if he wasn’t too busy feeling achingly raw from overuse and overwhelmingly aroused. His orgasm cascades over him like a wave, and Blaine’s follows immediately after. The shower washes away all the evidence as they cling to each other as they come down. Blaine reaches for the body wash again, and Kurt shakes his head. 

“No more,” Kurt says. “I can’t anymore. I’ve had too much sex.”

“Shh,” Blaine says, laughing through his whisper. “This is just for cleaning, I promise.”

Kurt relaxes and lets Blaine lather up and loofah and run it all over his body, spending extra time on his torso. After Kurt rinses clean, they trade places and Kurt lathers up Blaine’s hair. 

“Now I know why you were enjoying that shampoo so much,” Blaine says as Kurt works his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t the shampoo at all, it was your fucking hands.”

“Go rinse off,” Kurt orders, and Blaine turns around and does so. The Kurt runs the loofah over Blaine’s body, washing every inch of it. By the time they’re done Kurt is so exhausted that he’s ready to fall asleep wrapped in his towel.

“Ugh, we can’t get in that bed, it’s disgusting,” Kurt says as Blaine wraps a towel around his own waist. 

“I changed the sheets before I joined you,” Blaine says, reaching a hand out to Kurt. “It’s all set. We can just go to sleep.”

“You think of everything,” Kurt says as he takes Blaine’s hand and lets him lead him back to the bedroom. True to his word, Blaine has not only changed the sheets on the bed but turned down the bed like a true gentleman. Blaine looks young like this, freshly scrubbed and blissful, and he’s looking at Kurt for something akin to approval, Kurt thinks. Kurt’s brain is fried and his body is sore and the bed is the most tempting thing Kurt has ever seen aside from Blaine himself. Blaine’s cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower and his hair is beginning to curl over his forehead, and Kurt can’t stop himself. “I love you,” he says, soft and plain. Blaine blinks, and his face grows even pinker as his mouth pulls into the biggest grin Kurt has ever seen. 

“Oh Kurt,” Blaine says, moving forward until he’s in Kurt’s arms. “God, Kurt, I love you, too.”


	14. Chapter 14

It feels wrong to Kurt to be back in his own bed the next night, his skin smelling like his own shower products instead of Blaine’s. There’s a lingering sadness deep within him, a melancholy that’s taken root that he can hardly bear. He’s heard of this, of course--the grief that comes from being separated from your soulmate after you’ve met and ’coupled,’ according to the research on the subject. It sounds so clinical, though, nothing Kurt would associate with his memories of what happened between them the night before. His body aches in unfamiliar ways, but all Kurt can think is how he can’t wait until they become more common. 

It feels like a joke, going back to his room and his homework and his dad and leaving Blaine behind with his. He knows that on the surface they’re still high school students and that finding your soulmate doesn’t free you from your obligations, but it doesn’t feel like his life anymore. His life is with Blaine, and he’ll go wherever that takes him. He can’t believe he ever doubted it. 

Their relationship is still so new that there aren’t any relics of Blaine in his room; there’s nothing that Kurt can use to tether himself to Blaine across the few miles distance, save for his phone, which Kurt keeps by his side. He hasn’t heard from Blaine since before his shower, when they’d had a short text conversation.

My parents are home, Blaine had texted. Joy. 

And here comes the lecture. 

Want me to come over and deal with them? Kurt writes back. 

Yes, please, Blaine replies. No, don’t. You shouldn’t have to put up with them.

I would for you, Kurt types. 

<3, is Blaine’s reply. Fuck, I have 2 hide my phone so they can’t take it.

He doesn’t hear from Blaine for the rest of the night; Kurt’s sleep is restless. He texts Blaine good morning, but doesn’t hear back--nor does he expect to. At least there’s school, Kurt realizes. They’ll be able to see each other then.

He throws himself into getting ready, spending a little extra effort than usual, which is an exceptional amount of effort all told. There’s a part of him that wonders if Blaine will come and pick him up, but it’s raining and the air is turning cold instead of just chilly, and when Blaine doesn’t show up before it’s time for Kurt to leave to make it to class on time, Kurt doesn’t worry. Instead, he starts up his car and decides he should start offering rides instead, now that it’s getting closer to winter. 

He heads straight to his locker, passing Mercedes on the way. He recognizes a similar longing in Mercedes, and it takes him a moment to realize what it means for her relationship with Sam. He’s not ready to bring it up to her--even the thought sends a burning heat to his cheeks as he looks to his feet instead, making his way past her without a word. He reaches his locker and flings it open, busying himself with the task of filling his messenger bag for his morning classes. It doesn’t take long until the sound of a body slams into the locker next to him, which sends a terrified jolt through him before he recognizes the profile of the person next to him. 

“I’m grounded,” Blaine says, slamming his head back and rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “They took my fucking phone.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, before swinging his locker shut and leaning against it himself. Blaine shakes his head. 

“They haven’t grounded me in I don’t even know how long,” Blaine says. “They kinda just gave up.”

“What changed?” Kurt asks, though he knows the answer already. 

“They think we’re moving too fast,” Blaine says, looking over at Kurt with annoyed eyes. “It’s their way of trying to control our access to each other.”

“They can’t do that, can they?” Kurt says, suddenly feeling panicked. 

“They can think they can,” Blaine replies with a sigh. He smiles then, his expression softening. “We’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

“I missed you last night,” Kurt says, trying for a whisper but ending up somewhere closer to a flirtation hum, if the way Blaine’s eyes darken is any indication. 

“I missed you too,” Blaine says, rolling forward on the axis of his shoulder still on the locker. Kurt lets his eyes close in anticipation. Just as Blaine’s lips touch his, a voice rings out in Kurt’s ear. 

“Oh gross, no one wants to see that,” Santana says. “Keep your mating rituals out of my educational institution, teen gays. I can’t be expected to learn anything when I’m losing my lunch before I’ve even eaten it.”

“Fuck off, Santana,” Blaine says, before pulling Kurt even closer. His mouth is over Kurt’s ear when he begins moaning. “Oh, oh, oh god, oh--”

“Wanky, Anderson,” Santana says. 

“Oh, right there,” Blaine continues, and Kurt is frozen still against the locker. He’s turned on, he’s humiliated, and he has no idea how to deal with either of them. Everyone in the hallway is watching them. His fingers grip against Blaine’s chest to push him back, but that just eggs Blaine on. 

“Blaine, stop,” Kurt says, just as Sue’s voice joins the fray. 

“Someone get me a hose, for Christ’s sake,” she says as she pulls at the back of Blaine’s collar. “Hummel, you need to get your mutt here neutered so he stops humping your leg in public.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything--he can’t say anything. Blaine is arguing with Sue, Santana is laughing, and Kurt can barely make sense of any of the words. He does the first thing he can think of--he pushes past Santana and the crowd behind her and beelines to the first restroom he finds. He stumbles up to the sink, turns on the water, cups some in his hands, and splashes it on his face. 

It’s cold, and it goes some distance toward quelling the fire burning in his face, which in turn helps settle his nerves a bit. It hadn’t been the worst thing in the world--Blaine had clearly been messing around, surely no one thought they were actually having sex in the hallway. Everyone knows they’re matched by now, so there isn’t any scandal there. But that doesn’t change the fact that their actual sexual relationship is ridiculously new, and that Kurt doesn’t want to share it with anyone else yet. He doesn’t want people joking about it in his classes for the rest of the day, or the week. And worse yet, he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that Blaine thought it was okay. That Blaine doesn’t know him well enough yet to know that Kurt would really, really not be okay with it.

The bathroom door slams open, and Kurt prepares for a confrontation. It’s just a freshman girl, however, and that’s when Kurt realizes he’s in the girl’s room. Then the bell rings, and Kurt pulls himself together the best he can. He lifts his chin and takes off for first period. 

The first thing he notices when he gets there is a group of girls giggling not over him, but over a new student in the front row--Sam. Kurt stops in his tracks before settling in next to him in the chair he usually occupied. 

“What are you doing here?” Kurt says, swinging his messenger bag onto his desk. “Mercedes isn’t in this class.”

“I know,” Sam say. “But I am.”

The teacher calls for attention then, and announces the presence of a new student. Kurt finally puts it together. He doesn’t get a chance to ask Sam about it until near the end of the period, when they split up to work on an assignment. 

“You’re transferring to McKinley?” is the first thing out of Kurt’s mouth. Sam grins, ducking his head. 

“I am,” Sam says. “I already worked it out with my parents before I came here; I just had to convince Mercedes.”

“And you have,” Kurt states, leaning back in his chair. Sam nods. 

“I did,” Sam says. “And she convinced her parents, and so we’re living together. Kind of. I’m living in her guest room. But we’re trying things out, ya know? Because it’s hard once you’ve found the person you’re supposed to be with but not being with them all the time, dude. I mean, you know that. You and Blaine, man, you guys have it lucky, being in the same town, the same school…”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, though he isn’t feeling particularly lucky at the moment. 

Kurt speeds out of class toward his second period, forcing himself not to look and see if Blaine is waiting for him. He’s not ready to discuss the morning’s events; he’d rather talk to Mercedes about hers. 

“He’s transferring here?” is the first thing he says when he slides into the desk next to hers. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Mercedes replies with a roll of her eyes. “Have fun getting freaky with your soulmate against the lockers this morning?”

“That’s not what happened,” Kurt says. “And don’t make this about me, we’re talking about you.”

“Of anyone in this school I’d thought you would have my back on this,” Mercedes says, leaning closer to Kurt and letting her voice drop. “You haven’t left Blaine’s side since you two found each other.”

“Yes I have,” Kurt says, leaning in as well. “I didn’t talk to him last night.”

“Wow, a whopping 12 hours,” Mercedes replies. “Then you know what it’s like. How difficult it is to be apart once you’ve--”

“Yes,” Kurt says, as Mercedes trails off, glancing around them. “Yes, fine, yes. But we’re still in high school, Mercedes. Didn’t you say you wanted to wait--”

“This is precisely why I wanted to wait,” Mercedes says, tapping her finger on the desk between them. “This is why! But it’s too late for that, now.”

“It can’t be too late,” Kurt says. 

“Why does it matter?” Mercedes asks, before looking concerned. “Oh no, is that boy not treating you right? What happened this morning?”

“No, he’s fine, this morning was--” Kurt cuts off. “I don’t know, it was weird. It was a joke, but--”

“You weren’t laughing,” Mercedes finishes for him, still looking worried. “Kurt, just because he’s your soulmate doesn’t mean you can’t say if he’s not respecting your wishes.”

“He is, he does,” Kurt says, swallowing hard. “It just feels like so much, all the time.”

“I know, baby,” Mercedes says, smiling a gentle smile at him before running her fingers over his cheek. “Trust me, I know.”

“I feel like I know him so well,” Kurt says. “And then he does something like this morning where I feel like he doesn’t know me at all.”

“He doesn’t,” Mercedes says, shrugging one shoulder. “Not really. Not yet, at least. You have to give him time, tell him what’s going on with you instead of hiding it all away like you usually do.”

Class starts then, distracting Kurt from his thoughts. The distraction only lasts until class ends, when Kurt heads out into the hall and straight into Blaine. Blaine’s jaw is set, and his face is stormy. 

“Walk you to class?” Blaine says, and Kurt nods. Neither of them say anything during their procession down the hall, walking side by side. Kurt’s not quite sure what Blaine has to be mad about, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him. They reach Kurt’s classroom before either of them have said a word, and Kurt isn’t sure how to proceed. 

“Thanks for the escort?” is what he says, which makes Blaine snort a small laugh as a smile breaks the stony veneer of his face. 

“Skip with me?” Blaine says, even though Kurt is in sight of his teacher and most of his classmates. Blaine’s eyes are pleading though, and Kurt is more tempted than not. “I just--I think we should talk about this morning.”

Kurt’s a fraction of a second from saying yes when Sam comes into view, headed into a classroom down the hall. He shakes his head, stepping back. 

“I can’t keep skipping class, Blaine,” Kurt says, hands gripping his messenger bag more tightly. Blaine’s face shutters closed. “I’m sorry, I can’t--”

“It’s fine, whatever,” Blaine says, stepping backward himself and shrugging. “Why should you want to talk to me when you can just be pissy and cold instead?”

“That’s how you’re going to handle this?” Kurt says, suddenly quite certain of the feeling of rage inside of him. “Because I’m not all id and demanding and I can actually wait until an appropriate time to have a conversation?”

“Oooh, id, really,” Blaine says, stepping closer now. “Are you sure I know what that means? Or is that the point, because I’m just a stupid delinquent?”

“What are you talking about?” Kurt says. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Well, you’re the only one,” Blaine replies. The bell for class rings, and the teacher calls out “Mr. Hummel, are you joining us?”

“We’ll talk at lunch, okay?” Kurt says, reaching a hand out for Blaine, who steps out of reach. “Blaine, please, just two more classes.”

But Blaine shakes his head. “Nah, I’m taking off. I’ll see you later.”

“Mr. Hummel,” the teacher calls again, and Blaine turns his back. Kurt feels his tether to Blaine stretching tighter and tighter and it takes everything in him to turn into the classroom instead. They have to be capable of being apart, Kurt rationalizes. And conversations can always wait.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to genuinewarmdecentfeeling for talking me through the mechanics (*ahem*) of some of the actions taken in this chapter.

The next 90 minutes are some of the longest of Kurt’s life. ‘Waiting’ appears to be a difficult concept for the physiology of the newly matched, no matter how much Kurt’s brain is trying to reason with his nerve endings. Knowing that Blaine is out there, upset and frustrated, is like a series of pinpricks at the base of his skull. He makes it through both of his classes physically but not mentally. By the time lunch hits, Kurt is visibly shaking. He runs for Blaine’s classroom, knowing he won’t find him there but at a loss as to where else to go. He checks the office and the cafeteria. He runs to the storage room but it’s locked, and Kurt doesn’t know how to pick it like Blaine does. 

He texts Blaine, then calls, but gets no answer either way. He considers going to Blaine’s house, but doubts quite seriously that home is where Blaine would choose to spend an upset morning away from school. 

No, Kurt knows where Blaine would go. He can’t believe it took him so long to remember. 

Kurt heads out into the parking lot at full speed, darting as fast as he can through the intermittent rain drops. He starts up the Navigator and checks his phone once more before putting the car in gear and taking off for his destination. It takes too long to get there. 

The parking lot outside of the warehouse is muddy and empty. A single track that ends at the door of Blaine’s warehouse is enough proof for Kurt, though, who puts the Navigator in park and runs up to the building at a sprint. He’s breathless when he pushes open the door, hoping he made the right call in coming out here. 

The look of surprised adoration on Blaine’s face makes Kurt pretty sure he did. 

“I was wrong,” Kurt says, walking further in the room. He pauses long enough to gasp in a breath. “Turns out conversations can’t wait.”

“No, they can,” Blaine says, putting down the wrench and the rag in his hand on the counter. “Of course they can, I’m an asshole--”

“I was dying in class,” Kurt cuts in, moving closer to him. “I don’t even know what we were talking about and I answered questions--”

“I am all id, you’re right, I’m like fucking Veruca Salt--”

“I love you,” Kurt says. “And I am so, so scared by that.”

“I know,” Blaine says. “And I love you, too, and God, come here.”

Blaine takes Kurt’s face in his hands and pulls Kurt taut against his body, kissing him as he does so. The kiss works like a balm on the pain in Kurt’s head, soothing away the shaking of his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says as the kiss breaks. “For this morning, I didn’t think it would make you so upset--I didn’t think at all.”

“I know,” Kurt says, leaning his cheek into the warmth of Blaine’s. 

“God, when I saw you leave, I just--I tore into Santana. She gave it right back. We both ended up in the office, and--”

Blaine stops talking then, lowering his head to rest on Kurt’s shoulder. 

“What happened?” Kurt finally asks. “You were so angry when I saw you, I thought you were mad at me.”

“No, God, no,” Blaine says, lifting his head again. “I wasn’t mad at you, I felt like shit about you, I was mad about fucking Coach Sylvester.”

“I don’t understand,” Kurt says. Blaine sighs. 

“I need a teacher evaluation,” Blaine replies. “For NYU. Emma can’t do it, because she’s a counselor, not a teacher. Coach Sylvester said she would, and that was great. I’m all set for early admission applications otherwise. Only now, I guess, she’s decided to hold my evaluation over my head as collateral for my promise to behave.”

“Can she do that?” Kurt asks, and Blaine snorts. 

“She can and is,” Blaine replies. “Applications are due in like, a week. And if she doesn’t do it, no one else will. At least not the kind of evaluation I can actually use to get into college. Their evaluations will just get me into juvie.”

They haven’t really talked about future plans yet, Kurt realizes, other than a mutual admission that they’ve planned on New York. 

“I don’t even know what you want to major in,” Kurt says, and Blaine blinks up at him with wide, honey eyes. 

“Music,” he answers. “Music composition, actually. I love to perform, but I can do that anywhere. I want to really get down to the meat of--”

Kurt can’t help himself; he flings himself into Blaine at full force, stopping his mouth with his own. Blaine stumbles but catches himself, responding to Kurt’s kiss with equal fervor. It doesn’t take long until Blaine’s hands are winding their way into Kurt’s hair as Kurt’s hands begin sliding down over the curve of Blaine’s hips. Blaine’s hands smell like oil and grease. 

“What were you doing?” Kurt asks. Blaine blinks at him. 

“Kissing you,” Blaine replies, leaning back in to chase Kurt’s lips. 

“No, before I got here,” Kurt says, reaching up to take Blaine’s hand in his. He sees dark streaks on his fingers. 

“Oh, working on my bike,” Blaine says. “Getting it winter ready.”

Kurt glances over Blaine’s shoulder to the spot where the bike rests on top of a drop cloth. Blaine nuzzles his way over to Kurt’s ear before taking the lobe lightly between his teeth. 

“I want to blow you,” Blaine murmurs between kitten licks on the shell of Kurt’s ear. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, helpless to say no. Blaine’s hands find purchase on Kurt’s waist and begin tracing up under the hem of his shirt. 

“On my bike,” Blaine says then, and Kurt thinks he must’ve missed part of the conversation while lost in the sensation of Blaine’s touch. “I want to blow you on my bike.”

Kurt’s brain can’t even figure out how such a thing would happen, but his body is definitely on board. “Yeah,” Kurt says. “Okay.”

Blaine pulls back, a satisfied grin on his face. “Okay.” He kisses Kurt gently. “I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

Blaine walks over to the sink while Kurt stands in place, unsure what to do next. He decides to walk over to the bike. He traces his fingers over the curve of the seat. Is he supposed to sit on it?

“Come here,” Blaine says from directly behind Kurt. Kurt spins and Blaine catches him, holding him in place. “God, you are so beautiful.”

“So are you,” Kurt says, and then they’re kissing again. Blaine maneuvers Kurt until he’s leaning his weight on the seat of the bike, his legs extended out in front of him off the side of the bike. Kurt’s hands grip the other side of the seat, holding him in place. Once Kurt’s situated, Blaine’s movements become frantic. His mouth works along Kurt’s neck and his hands struggle with Kurt’s belt. Kurt can’t help but glance down to watch and there’s a little jolt of pleasure when he sees the obscene way that Blaine’s pants are tented. 

“This really works for you,” he says, and Blaine responds with a groan that reverberates through Kurt’s skin. 

“You have no idea,” Blaine finally says, pulling back just far enough to meet Kurt’s gaze. “Lift your hips.”

Kurt does so, and Blaine works Kurt’s jeans in slow increments down his thighs. Kurt’s a little embarrassed by the eager way his cock bobs out and up when Blaine frees it from the confines of his pants. It doesn’t take long for Blaine’s mouth to sink over him, however, which changes his embarrassment to shockingly strong bursts of pleasure. Blaine’s mouth is sloppy but enthusiastic, and Kurt’s happy to realize he’s already lasted longer than the last time they tried this. Blaine begins working Kurt over with both his hand and his tongue and then there’s this rumble, vibrations all along the length of his cock, and it’s too much. 

“Oh my god,” Kurt says, his voice cracking. He lifts his hips off the seat of the bike, chasing the sensation as far as he can. Blaine makes a small gagging sound, and Kurt pulls back immediately, which might be the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life. “Oh my god, I’m sorry--”

“No, no, do it again,” Blaine says, his hand still working over Kurt’s cock. “Do it again, I can take it.”

Blaine’s mouth sinks back down, and Kurt lets his hips move this time. It’s exceptional, it’s insane, it’s thrust after thrust after swallow after swallow. Blaine moans again and this time it pushes Kurt over the edge. His orgasm feels like a supernova, reaching every inch of his body. 

Kurt’s still gasping for breath when he realizes that Blaine is now standing over Kurt, his hand working over his own cock at a frantic pace. Kurt doesn’t even think before he reaches down and pulls his shirt up and out of the way. The lazy movement spurs something on inside of Blaine, who gasps out a grunt as his hips stutter to a stop as he comes. 

They stay like that for a few moments, nuzzling kisses against the spots of the other that they can reach, expressing love with every breath. Finally, Kurt complains of a crick in his back and Blaine moves to clean them up. There’s still nowhere comfortable to really sit in the warehouse, but there is a somewhat comfy blanket and Blaine builds them a nest of sorts on the scaffolding. They stretch out there for a few moments, Kurt doing his best not to think about rats or school or other pervasive carriers of pestilence. It doesn’t last long. 

“I can’t skip the whole afternoon,” Kurt whispers from where he’s leaning against Blaine’s chest. 

“Sure you can,” Blaine says. “You’ve done it before.”

“Yes, well, unlike you, I don’t have standing arrangements with the staff of McKinley to ensure I graduate and get into a good school no matter how I behave,” Kurt says, before worrying that he’s crossed a line. To his great relief, Blaine laughs. 

“I bet I can extend my arrangement to cover you, too,” Blaine says. “Soulmate privilege.”

Kurt turns his head so he can look at Blaine. He second guesses himself at least five guesses more than usual before he finally says, “Do you ever worry that your parents are right?”

Blaine freezes, his hand still midair on its way to toy with Kurt’s hair. “No, I’ve never once worried that in my entire life.”

“This is moving pretty fast,” Kurt tries next. Blaine pulls his hand back, folding his arm so that it rests under his head. 

“This is moving normally for soulmates,” Blaine says. “You know that. My parents know that, they’re just being idiots as usual.”

“This doesn’t terrify you?” Kurt asks. “How much it feels?”

“No,” Blaine says. “It feels right. It’s the only thing that has felt right in my whole life. It doesn’t feel right to you?”

“It does,” Kurt says. “I think that’s why it’s terrifying.”

“What are you afraid of?” Blaine asks. 

“I’m afraid that we’re both going to fail out of school,” Kurt says. “And be doomed to a life as failures who do nothing but have sex.”

“But it will be really awesome sex,” Blaine says, leaning down to brush a kiss on the top of Kurt’s head. 

“But it will be in a cardboard box,” Kurt says. “I am not equipped to live in a cardboard box, Blaine. You have not seen my skincare routine.” Blaine shakes his head. 

“Nah, it’ll just be in a rat-infested warehouse,” Blaine replies.

“God, don’t remind me about the rats, I’ve been trying to forget,” Kurt says. They’re quiet for a moment. Kurt steals a glance to Blaine, who looks deep in thought. 

“You know why it’s so bad, don’t you?” Blaine says a few minutes later.

“Because we’re spending too much time together?” Kurt replies. “Having too much sex?”

“The opposite, actually,” Blaine answers. Kurt scoffs. “No wait, hear me out. It’s not supposed to be like this, being together part time and going home to our parents’ houses and acting like we haven’t matched. We have, Kurt. And our bodies need to be closer to each other than that.”

“So what, we just move in together?” Kurt says, laughing at the thought. Blaine shrugs. “No, no way, we can’t--”

“Why can’t we?” Blaine says, sitting up. “I turn 18 in a couple weeks, and I have a trust fund that comes of age then--”

“Of course you do,” Kurt says, sitting up as well. “My dad would never let us.”

“I’m pretty sure that in the eyes of the law, a soulmate match overrules the rights of the parent,” Blaine says, folding his legs under him. “There was that case of the two 13-year-olds who matched and the one kid got permission from the courts to move in with their soulmate’s family against their wishes.”

“This is crazy,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “We can’t just move in together. Next you’ll be saying we should have our official match ceremony--”

“Why not?” Blaine says, lifting his hands in frustration. “We’re not kids, Kurt. There’s no sign at all that our match is a bad one. We’re going to move to New York, and I want legal recognition that we’ve found each other and are responsible for each other.”

“Blaine, this is ridiculous,” Kurt says, getting up from the scaffolding. “I just want to graduate from high school.”

“These aren’t mutually exclusive, Kurt,” Blaine says, sliding forward to sit on the edge of the scaffolding. “On the contrary, actually. I think that if we make this official, we’ll be able to live the rest of our lives better.”

“I have to go back to class,” Kurt says. “We’ll talk about this more later.”

“Ok, fine,” Blaine says, leaning back onto hands. To Kurt’s surprise, he doesn’t look bothered at all. “We’ll do it your and my parents’ way. We’ll take it slow.”

“Ok, why do you look so smug?” Kurt asks, crossing his arms. Blaine grins before unwinding his body and coming to stand beside Kurt. He runs his hands over the creases of Kurt’s shirt, moving it back into neatly-pressed place. 

“Because,” Blaine says, lowering his eyelids before looking up to Kurt through his lashes. “I’m curious to see how long it takes you to admit you were absolutely wrong.”

“I don’t admit I’m wrong,” Kurt says, and Blaine hums out a little laugh. “Because I’m not.”

“I’m grounded for a week,” Blaine says. “We won’t see each other except at school. We’ll see how you feel after that.”


	16. Chapter 16

The following week is the worst week of Kurt Hummel’s life. He’d thought the 90 minutes he’d spent waiting to go to Blaine after their fight in the hall had been bad; going without more than just an escort to and from class is killing him. Blaine, for his part, seems to look happier the more miserable Kurt looks each morning. Which hardly seems fair, Kurt thinks, because--

“This has to be killing you, too,” he says to Blaine on Wednesday, only two days into their sequester. Blaine nods. 

“It is,” Blaine says, throwing a sidelong glance at Kurt. “It really, really is.”

“Then why do you look so happy?” Kurt asks, coming to lean against the wall on the opposite side of his classroom. 

“Because I know that it’s worth it,” Blaine says. “And, mostly, because I really like being right.”

“You’re not right,” Kurt says, doing his best to sound convincing. 

“Okay,” Blaine says, taking a step closer. He doesn’t touch Kurt--hasn’t touched him since Monday, and it’s the most unfair thing Kurt has ever experienced. It takes all of his willpower not to move himself into Blaine’s personal space, not to make contact with the curve of his jaw and the slope of his shoulders and the swell of his veins and his--

“Kurt,” Blaine says, waving his hand in front of Kurt’s eyes. 

“Let’s skip class,” Kurt says, feeling flush with power and the rush of being naughty. “Come on, let’s go to the warehouse.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Blaine says, his entire face scrunching up in a grin. “I feel inspired to be a good student this week.”

“You’re cruel,” Kurt says. Blaine bites his lip, then licks at it achingly slowly. “Really, really cruel.”

“See you after class, Kurt,” Blaine says, walking away backward down the hall. 

“I hate you,” Kurt calls, but Blaine just laughs. Kurt adjusts his bag so it discreetly covers the evidence remaining from Blaine’s teasing and heads into class.

On Thursday, Kurt slumps into the desk next to Mercedes. 

“Boy, what is wrong with you?” Mercedes says. “You wore that shirt already this week.”

“Blaine is wrong with me,” Kurt says, before dropping his head on his desk. Mercedes clucks her tongue and rubs his back, and it’s soothing but almost a tease on his highly attuned nerve-endings. They know it’s not Blaine touching him, and they’re not happy with the second-rate offering. 

Kurt turns his head to look at Mercedes, who is all smiles and bright eyes and glowing cheeks. “What’s going on with you, are you trying that juice diet again?”

“No, why?” Mercedes says, frowning as she moves her hand up to test Kurt’s forehead. “Baby, are you sick?”

“No,” Kurt says, blinking his eyes a couple times and looking again. “You look fantastic, what are you doing? It is unfair for you to try a new skin regimen and not tell me, you know.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Mercedes says, still furrowing her brow. “Literally nothing in my life has changed, except for--”

“Except for,” Kurt repeats, suddenly sitting up. 

“Do I really look that different?” Mercedes asks, reaching for her compact in her purse. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Having Sam nearby doesn’t drive you crazy?” Kurt asks. “Doesn’t make you feel like you’re going to lose your mind and drop out of life and do nothing but have sex?”

Kurt hears the giggle of the girls in the row in front of him but can’t be bothered to be embarrassed. Mercedes laughs too, but it’s a kinder laugh. 

“No, not really,” Mercedes says. “It’s more the opposite, actually. I feel more settled, more focused, more energized--”

“This is so unfair,” Kurt says, slumping into his seat. “Why did I get the defective soul match?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s going on,” Mercedes says. But Kurt’s head is too fuzzy to figure out what is actually going on instead. It isn’t until Friday that he finally figures it out. He’s lying on the couch, listening to the football game his dad is watching. He can’t even work up the energy to flip through a Vogue as he does so. Blaine is still grounded, still phone-less and homebound. Mercedes is with Sam, of course, because they live together.

“They live together,” Kurt says, sitting up.

“Say what, now?” Burt says, reaching for another handful of popcorn.

“Mercedes and Sam live together,” Kurt says. “In the same house. They live together.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Burt says. “You feeling okay, buddy?”

“Dad, why didn’t you tell me it would be like this?” Kurt says, feeling betrayed. “Why didn’t anyone say it was like this?”

“Kiddo, I am completely confused,” Burt says, muting the tv. “I don’t even know who this Sam kid is.”

“He’s Mercedes’ soulmate,” Kurt says, as if that explains everything. And it might, as Burt sits back in his chair and says, “Ah.”

“He moved here from Kentucky,” Kurt goes on. “And her parents let him move in. And she is fantastic, she’s perfect, and I’m like this.” Kurt pulls at his shirt. “I’ve worn this shirt three times this week.”

“Blaine being grounded’s been pretty hard on you, huh?” Burt says. “I thought it might be.”

“I was so, totally wrong,” Kurt says, collapsing on his couch. “Don’t tell Blaine I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe,” Burt says. “But we should talk about this.”

“Blaine wants to do our match ceremony,” Kurt says. “He wants us to move in together.”

“And what do you think?” Burt says. Kurt looks up to the ceiling, seeking answers. 

“I think we’re too young,” Kurt says. Burt chuckles. 

“You are that,” Burt replies. “You are too fucking young.”

“But I can’t keep living like this,” Kurt says. “I thought being together was what was distracting me. I thought if we spent time apart I’d get focused again, but the exact opposite has happened, Dad.”

“Jeez louise, Kurt,” Burt says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here.”

“You and Mom went through this,” Kurt points out, before sitting up to look at his dad. Burt’s taken off his cap and is sitting hunched over, rubbing his head with his hands. “What did you do to get through it?”

“We didn’t,” Burt says. “We were a little luckier, we were a little closer to graduation than you are. We had our match ceremony the weekend before graduation and moved in together instead of going to get our diplomas.”

“You never told me,” Kurt says. Burt sighs. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to give you the idea that school wasn’t important,” Burt says. “So I left out some details.”

“So what are you saying?” Kurt says. Burt sighs once more before inhaling deeply. 

“I’m saying you’re grown ups, basically,” Burt says. “And I’m saying that I don’t have any interest in torturing you for six more months just so you can be high school graduates before you’re official.”

“I’m not sure that Blaine’s parents will be so understanding,” Kurt replies, and Burt nods. 

“Can’t say I blame them entirely,” Burt says. “But if they think they’re gonna get in the way of biology and destiny I am afraid they are in for a rude awakening.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Kurt says. Burt holds up his hand. 

“Now hang on,” Burt continues. “Don’t think that this is going to be the end of your problems. Neither of you have lived on your own, and as far as I know neither of you have any income to speak of. Love is grand, kid, but you can’t live on it.”

“Blaine has a trust fund,” Kurt says, and Burt snorts. 

“ ‘Course he does,” Burt says. “When does he turn 18?”

“The end of December,” Kurt answers. “The 28th.”

“Okay,” Burt says. “Until then, you guys can stay here. Provided you talk to Blaine’s parents first.”

“Blaine says legally they don’t have to agree,” Kurt says, and Burt shakes his head. 

“That’s not the point,” Burt answers. “They deserve the respect of hearing it from you two first, long as you’re both still underage. I’m not going to be housing a runaway.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees. “I can’t wait to tell Blaine!”

“There’s just one more thing,” Burt says. Kurt’s eyes narrow. “You’re gonna have to figure out how to tell him without admitting you were wrong.”

Kurt’s enthusiasm wanes and he slumps back against the couch as Burt laughs.


	17. Chapter 17

Blaine’s grounding ends on Sunday. By that point, Kurt is nothing more than a frazzled end of a frayed knot, getting in his dad’s way and doing little more than staring morosely out into the November rain (which leads to him listening to the song, which leads to crying, which leads to more morose staring). On Sunday, Kurt wakes up to the sound of an incoming text. It takes him a moment to realize what it means. He rolls over to his nightstand and grabs for his phone. When he sees Blaine’s name, his entire body feels alight. 

**_I need you,_** is all the text says.

 _I’ll meet you anywhere,_ Kurt replies, already getting out of bed and heading toward the shower. 

**_I can’t leave yet,_** Blaine writes back. **_There’s one final condition of my grounding. You have to come over for dinner and meet them._**

 _That’s fine,_ Kurt types back. _How about lunch instead? Breakfast? Something earlier?_

**_I’ll convince them to make it early dinner,_** Blaine says. **_Fuck, I miss you so much._**

 _I miss you, too,_ Kurt replies. _I talked to my dad._

**_About what?_ **

_About our conversation._ Kurt stops, tries to figure out how to say it. _About how I was wrong._

**_:D,_** Blaine texts. **_Took you long enough. I’m dying over here._**

 _Can I call you?_ Kurt types.

 ** _Sure,_** Blaine writes back immediately. Kurt hits ‘call’ under Blaine’s name before he can second guess it. 

“Hey, baby,” Blaine’s voice unfurls through the phone line. 

“Hey,” Kurt replies. Blaine chuckles.

“God, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Blaine says. “We are never doing this again.”

“Never,” Kurt agrees. “In fact, I’ve already put a plan in place.”

“Does it involve our mouths touching at some point?” Blaine asks. “Or other parts? I’m not picky.”

“Oh my god, Blaine, you can’t just say that,” Kurt says, but he finds he doesn’t really mind. He kind of likes it, actually. It’s not nearly enough to sate the need coursing through his system, but it helps. 

“What’s your plan if not that?” Blaine asks. “Because it’s kind of all I can think about, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Mine was a little more along the lines of ‘match ceremonies’ and ‘moving in together,’” Kurt says. “Sorry to disappoint.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end, and Kurt is suddenly terrified. “Blaine? I--”

“Are you serious?” Blaine asks, his voice rough and thick with emotion. “Please tell me you’re serious.”

“I’m serious,” Kurt says. “Like I said, I talked to my dad--”

“Oh my god, Kurt, I love you,” Blaine says. “I love you so much, what did he say? I don’t care what he said, I love you, we’ll figure this out--”

“My dad was surprisingly okay with it,” Kurt says. “He’s not happy, but he gets it. Really gets it, actually.”

“God, I wish you were here so I could kiss you,” Blaine says, and it almost sounds like he’s crying. Kurt wouldn’t blame him if he is--he’s tearing up himself. “Why are we having this conversation on the phone?”

“Because I wanted to tell you before we saw your parents,” Kurt explains. “Because that’s my dad’s one condition. We can live here until we come of age and you get your trust fund, so long as we tell your parents first.”

“No, that’s bullshit,” Blaine says. “We don’t have to tell them. I’ll just come over right now--”

“This is his one condition, Blaine,” Kurt says. “It’s just a conversation. I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay,” Blaine says. “I’ll do it for you.”

They agree that Blaine will text Kurt the time for dinner, while Kurt sets about getting himself ready. it’s a strange feeling, getting ready for an event that feels both momentous and important and superfluous at the same time. Whatever Blaine’s parents say won’t matter in the long run--they’ll still be moving in together. Still, Kurt would like to have a decent relationship with is in-laws if possible. 

Dinner is set for 5, which Blaine assures Kurt is early for the Andersons. He also assures Kurt that dressing for dinner is a thing for the Andersons, which makes Kurt happy though he doesn’t admit it. He arrives at ten to 5, ringing the doorbell and stepping back to wait. He’s brought a cheesecake that he whipped up at the last minute and he hopes that he’s not overstepping his bounds. 

The housekeeper answers the door, which throws Kurt off his game. He offers her the cheesecake and she laughs but takes it, leaning forward to kiss Kurt on the cheek. “Blaine--er, the younger Mr. Anderson, I mean--he said you were handsome, but he did not say you were so pretty.”

“Thank you,” Kurt replies, stepping into the foyer. She grins. 

“Please remove your shoes and your coat,” she says. “I will take you to the parlor to meet the Andersons for cocktails.”

Kurt’s tempted to point out that he’s not old enough to drink yet, but it hardly seems a fortuitous time to mention it. Instead, Kurt follows orders and is soon headed off down a different hallway than he traveled on his last visit. They come to an open room with arched doorways and a leather sofa and loveseat. Blaine is seated on one; his parents are on another. 

Kurt barely recognizes Blaine, clad as he is in a sweater vest and bowtie and with his hair gelled within an inch of its life. He smiles when Kurt comes into view, however, and Kurt would know that smile anywhere. 

“Kurt,” Blaine says, coming to stand in the middle of the room. “You made it.”

“He also made cheesecake,” the housekeeper says. “I’ll put it in the fridge.”

“You made cheesecake?” Blaine’s mother, a sweetfaced, small filipino woman says, her eyes wide with surprise. 

“It was nothing,” Kurt says. “Just a family recipe.”

“Thank you,” Blaine’s mother says, looking at Kurt with something akin to awe. “I must admit, I’ve never tried making cheesecake myself, it always seemed so difficult.”

“You never cook at all,” Blaine says, laughing off the words. “Everything in the kitchen seems difficult to you.”

“Watch your tone, young man,” Blaine’s dad says. “We have guests.” Blaine frowns at his dad’s word, a comical look of confusion on his face. 

“I’d be happy to teach you,” Kurt says, because it’s the only thing he can think of to say in the moment. “If you were actually interested. Otherwise, I can just keep making cheesecakes, it’s no problem.”

“My mom doesn’t eat dessert,” Blaine says, taking Kurt’s hand in his. 

“I’d be happy to try Kurt’s cheesecake,” Blaine’s mom replies. “It’s not like I never have dessert, Blaine, be serious.”

“I’m gonna take Kurt to get a drink,” Blaine says. “On the other side of the room. We’ll be right back.”

“This is going well,” Kurt says, and Blaine chuckles. 

“Better than I expected, at least,” Blaine says. “What would you like?”

“Can we actually...drink?” Kurt asks, lowering his voice conspiratorially. Blaine nods. 

“My dad thinks drinking ages are archaic,” Blaine answers. “Says that on the continent--and he does call it the continent, I’m not even kidding--they have the right idea, so…” Blaine picks up a glass bottle and swirls it around. “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“I just don’t know what to have,” Kurt says. “What’s appropriate?”

“How about some wine?” Blaine says, putting the first bottle down and picking up another. This one looks more familiar to Kurt, with its printed label. “It’s red, is that okay?”

“Sure,” Kurt says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Blaine pours out two glasses of wine and offers one to Kurt, keeping the other for himself. Kurt sips at it, and it’s not bad--it tastes a little like grape juice that’s taken a turn for the wrong side. It’s a little like Blaine in that, he thinks.

They head back over to join Blaine’s parents, and Kurt is determined to keep things on track. He knows that Blaine has a fair amount of anger toward his parents, and he doesn’t blame him for it, but he’s pretty sure anger isn’t the way to handle this conversation. 

“So, Kurt,” Blaine’s mother says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Blaine’s mother, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that already. You may call me Cecelia if you’d like. And you’ve met my husband previously, I understand, though I’m not sure you made proper introductions. You may call him Robert.”

“Pleasure,” Kurt says. “Thank you for inviting me to your home. It’s lovely.”

“Yes, well,” Robert says. “I’m sure you didn’t get to see much of the house last time you were here. Probably just a single room.”

“Classy, dad,” Blaine interjects. “Way to keep up the level of discourse. Kudos.”

“Robert,” Cecelia says. Kurt is flushed, but he’s willing himself not to be thrown too off his trajectory. 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine’s father replies, and he looks truly contrite, it seems to Kurt. “That was inappropriate, Kurt. My apologies.”

“You should apologize to your son, actually,” Kurt says, suddenly feeling very angry on Blaine’s behalf. Robert blinks but says nothing, so Kurt presses on. “It’s actually his hosting skills you’re criticizing there. Blaine was a wonderful host, and I saw a great deal of the house, and not only in the way you’re implying.”

Kurt sees Blaine smirking out of the corner of his eye. Blaine’s father’s face is red, and it takes him several long seconds before he says, “I’m sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine looks more surprised than Kurt has ever seen him. He doesn’t say anything, however, just takes a sip of his wine. 

“Look,” Kurt says, leaning forward to place his glass of wine carefully on a coaster. “I’m very happy that you invited me over for dinner, and it’s a pleasure to meet you officially. But I take issue with the way in which you chose to go about this.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kurt,” Cecelia says. “We merely invited you to join us for dinner--”

“As part of Blaine’s punishment,” Kurt cuts in. “Which says to me that you believe that our relationship is something you can regulate and take away from him as you deem fit.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” Blaine’s father says then. “I don’t think that Blaine has ever actually obeyed a punishment so well before.”

“That wasn’t about you,” Blaine answers. “Surprise, surprise.”

“We’re soulmates,” Kurt says. “You’re both with your soulmate, I know you know what that means.”

“We found each other in our twenties,” Blaine’s father says. “It was different.”

“You’re just both so young, Kurt,” Blaine’s mom says. “And the topic of soulmates has been a very sensitive one for Blaine over the years, and we don’t want him throwing everything he’s worked for away over it again.”

“A sensitive topic?” Blaine says. “That’s how you think of it?”

“You’ve been obsessed with the subject since you were old enough to know what soulmates were,” Cecelia goes on. “You’ve made terrible choices because of it, you’ve gotten yourself kicked out of schools, you’re finally on track to graduate and go to the school of your choice and now this? How did you expect we’d react, Blaine?”

“By being happy for me?” Blaine says, his voice raising an pitch. “I know that’s crazy, being happy for your kids. But Kurt’s dad managed it, and I thought maybe my parents could, too.”

“We are happy, Blaine,” Cecelia says. “But we want you to take it slow, get through high school first--”

“It doesn’t work like that, Mom,” Blaine says. “You know it doesn’t. How long did it take for you to move in with Dad once you found each other?”

“Not long,” Cecelia says. “You know that. But like your father said, it was different.”

“It’s not different,” Kurt says. “It’s exactly the same.”

“No, it’s not,” Robert says. “You’re children. It’s not like you can run off and have a match ceremony next week and move in together.”

“It’s exactly like that,” Blaine says, reaching for Kurt’s hand and grabbing it tightly between his. 

“My father has said we can live with him until we turn 18,” Kurt says, gripping Blaine’s hand tightly as well. “And after that…”

“No,” Robert Anderson says, standing suddenly. “No, absolutely not.”

“Robert,” Cecelia says. “Sit down.”

“No, Cecelia,” Robert replies. “This is preposterous. I’m not going to sit here and listen to this foolish conversation, because it’s not going to happen. I forbid it.”

“You don’t get to do that,” Blaine says, looking at Kurt. “I’m turning 18 in a few weeks, and even if I wasn’t, the laws all side with us.”

This final argument takes the wind out of Robert Anderson’s sails. He visibly deflates into the loveseat next to his wife, who reaches over and takes his hand. 

“I know what we must look like to you,” Cecelia says, looking to Kurt. “Heaven knows what Blaine has told you. It’s just very difficult, you know, when your baby boy starts acting out and you have no idea why, and Blaine didn’t exactly make it easy for us to help, you know.”

“Does that make you feel better?” Blaine asks. “Blaming a child--your own child--for your inability to parent properly?”

“We made mistakes,” Cecelia Anderson says. “But we tried, Blaine. You have to know we did.”

“Maybe someday that will be enough,” Blaine says. “But it isn’t now.”

“So that’s it?” Robert says then, and if Kurt didn’t know better he’d swear there was the sound of tears forming in his voice. “That’s it, you’ve found your soulmate, so you’re just going to move out, and move on?”

“That’s how it works, Dad,” Blaine says. “That’s how it has always worked, this isn’t anything new.” There’s a long pause before Blaine continues, “This isn’t about you. You get that, right?”

“Fine,” Robert Anderson says. “We don’t need to go through with dinner, then--not formally, I mean. You can go to the kitchen yourselves, Marisol will make you each a plate. Let me know if you need anything to facilitate the move--a hired truck, movers, what have you.”

“Robert, we should still have dinner,” Cecelia says. “Don’t be like this.”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Robert says, standing up once more. “Kurt, it was a pleasure. Please, have another glass of wine. I’m afraid I’m not feeling quite up to socializing, I hope you understand.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, hoping that it’s the right answer. Robert nods and excuses himself from the room. 

“You boys should do what he said,” Cecelia says after a moment. “Go to the kitchen, get some dinner. I’m going to go check in on him.”

“Fine,” Blaine says, before pressing his lips together tightly. “I announce good news and he makes it all about him, fine. That’s awesome.”

“I know your father can be difficult, Blaine,” Cecelia says. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I am happy for you. For both of you.” Cecelia stands, and looks ready to leave before appearing to think better of it. She walks over to the boys where they are still seated on the sofa and she leans down to press a gentle kiss to each of their cheeks.

“I am so happy I’ll soon be able to call both of you my sons,” she says, reaching out to touch their cheeks lightly with a brush of her fingertips. “I look forward to getting to know both of you better.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Blaine says, as he stretches up out of his seat to take her in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Cecelia says. “I love you, too.”


	18. Chapter 18

Neither boy sees any reason to postpone Blaine’s move into the Hummels’ house; on the contrary, they’re both rather eager to have it over and done with. Blaine moves over the bare essentials that night, which surprises Burt a little. There’s an awkward conversation about respect and privacy that all members of the household leave a little more flustered than before, but before long Blaine and Kurt are in the basement making room for Blaine’s things among Kurt’s. 

It’s ridiculous to Kurt that it was just a couple weeks ago that he and Blaine were fumbling their way half-naked on the loveseat on the other side of the room. It feels like a million years have passed. There’s a negotiation for storage that ends with Blaine trading a blow job for an extra shelf before admitting that he’d probably have given the blow job anyway. 

They settle in for the night and it’s the most peaceful night’s sleep Kurt’s ever experienced. Their previous night together had been too aerobic and physically exhausting to be truly restful but this, this is perfect. He wakes in the morning feeling like he’s slept for days. 

For Blaine’s part, he seems more settled than ever before. The jittery edge of aggression that always bubbled underneath the surface of Blaine’s skin is sated, calm. He attends all of his classes on Monday with hardly a complaint. Tuesday is the same, and Wednesday after it. By Thursday, Mercedes is asking him about his diet and his skin care routine. 

They spend every evening with Burt, eating dinner and doing homework while watching a game or something on TLC or Bravo. They spend every night wrapped up in each other, perfecting their technique. Blaine’s a little kinkier than Kurt expected, at least by Kurt’s standards; one night he asks Kurt to tie his hands to the headboard before Kurt goes down on him. 

They still don’t progress to the “butt stuff,” though they do talk about it. 

“I kinda want to wait until after our ceremony,” Kurt says one night in a hushed whisper, as Blaine teases his fingers along the sensitive skin of Kurt’s lower back, tracing lower than he ever has before. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not,” Blaine says, his eyes glazed and golden. “It’s hot, Kurt.”

On Friday, Blaine meets Kurt at his locker with a huge grin and an even bigger hug. “She did it!” Blaine announces. “God, she left me hanging there for a minute, but she finally did it.”

“Who?” Kurt says, feeling flustered. “What?”

“Coach Sylvester,” Blaine announces. “She wrote my teacher evaluation!”

The next few weeks travel by in a hurry. Kurt’s application for NYADA is due, and then it’s time for Thanksgiving. Carole and Finn join them for dinner, and it feels like a real family holiday to Kurt. They share a couple bottles of wine between them--Kurt managing to convince his father to adopt Blaine’s parents’ attitudes toward underage drinking for the holiday, so long as no one drives after--and then Blaine and Kurt are alone in bed, drunkenly pushing their boundaries. 

“I think it’s okay if it’s just fingers,” Blaine says. “That’s not taking away from anything.”

“What’s the point of just fingers?” Kurt says, rocking his hips against Blaine’s but missing them entirely. Blaine sucks wetly on Kurt’s neck. 

“Here,” Blaine says. “I’ll show you.”

Kurt agrees to make fingers a part of their regular evening activities after that. 

Blaine gets his call for his audition on the same day that Kurt gets his, and they celebrate by baking a celebratory chocolate lava cake before dry humping on the kitchen island while it bakes. 

It overbakes a little, but it’s still delicious. 

Auditions mean a trip to New York, and Blaine’s father offers to pay for both of them to travel, sans chaperone, to the city just before Christmas. Their auditions are on different days, back to back, so the first day is spent focused on Blaine and the next is spent focused on Kurt. 

They celebrate their perceived successes each night with dinner out, followed by room service dessert in bed and blow jobs in the shower. 

Being in New York together, alone, cements everything between them.

“It’s like everything else so far has just been practice for this,” Kurt says the morning they leave, sitting hand in hand in a cafe an equal distance between their two prospective campuses. Blaine seems gentler here, softer. His face hasn’t lost the epic grin that overtook it the minute they stepped foot in La Guardia, despite it being “the worst airport I’ve ever been to, Kurt, I’m not even kidding.” He’s dressed up more than usual, something more akin to his dinnerwear with his parents. 

“I like clothes,” Blaine admits when Kurt teases him about it. “Caring about them just never really worked for me in the past, and it didn’t really convey the right...je ne sais quois, I guess.”

They go apartment hunting while they’re in the city, narrowing their choices down to a few key neighborhoods. By the time they head back to Lima, Kurt’s mind has already half taken up residence in New York. Still, there’s one key thing keeping him in place: It’s time to plan their ceremony. 

They’ve decided to wait until after Blaine has access to his trust fund to start scheduling anything so that they can pay for it all upfront. Blaine’s birthday comes along and the celebration consists of dinner, a concert in Columbus, and ceremony planning that night, tucked up in their bed in their pajamas.

Kurt’s been planning his match ceremony only his entire life, and he’s pretty shocked to realize that Blaine has been, too. They both pull out scrapbooks full of dream ceremonies, complete with fabric samples and sketches, and they laugh themselves to sleep surrounded by their swatches and magazine clippings. 

Of course, ceremony planning isn’t all fun and games. Their first major fight happens because of it. It’s the smallest of triggers that sets them off--not guest lists or budget or even Kurt’s desire to include wild animals somewhere in the proceedings. It’s a question of dessert. Blaine asks that they have a traditional Filipino dessert made of fried bananas, which clashes with Kurt’s plan of having assorted small cakes. It starts off simply, but before Kurt knows it he’s screaming, “Well, I guess you should just decide, since you’re paying for everything with your money and it doesn’t have anything to do with me!” at a red-faced Blaine, who turns and storms out of the house without a second glance. 

It’s a horrifying couple of hours after that. It’s the longest they’ve been without each other since Blaine moved in, and while it’s hardly anything in terms of how long cohabitating soulmates can go without each other, it feels like an eternity to Kurt. It’s different, he supposes, because he knows that Blaine is out there, angry and miserable, and it’s like he can feel it in his own bones. He knows that Blaine can feel him too, and it just makes him feel doubly miserable. 

After Kurt can no longer bear it, he follows his instincts to the place he knows Blaine is hiding out. 

“You can have your weird banana thing,” is the first thing Kurt says when he steps into the warehouse. 

“It’s your weird banana thing, too,” Blaine says, moving quickly across the space to take Kurt into his arms. “Everything I have is yours. I didn’t mean to say differently, Kurt, I’m sorry.”

“I hate ceremony planning,” Kurt says, sniffling into Blaine’s shoulder. 

“Shh, no you don’t,” Blaine says. “You love it. We’re just stressed out.”

The stress doesn’t get better after that, but they manage to avoid taking it out on each other (the closest they get to another battle is when it comes time to register for gifts; after a few tense moments, Blaine assesses the situation and decides to let Kurt handle the registering all by himself). They’re in their last semester of their senior year, and amid senior electives and final math classes they’re both still waiting to hear back from their first-choice colleges. 

“It doesn’t matter if one of us doesn’t get in,” Kurt says to Blaine one night when neither of them can sleep from the stress of waiting. “Right?”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Blaine says. “We’re still moving to New York, either way. Together.”

They’ve planned the ceremony for Valentine’s Day, the holiday in honor of the first recognized match in history. They should both have heard from their schools by then. 

Only suddenly it’s the weekend before, and neither of them have heard anything. They know from online forums that acceptances and rejections are being sent out; it should be any day now. 

“We could be waitlisted,” Blaine says over dinner the Saturday before. “They could be waiting to see if spaces open up.”

“There’s no way you’re waitlisted,” Kurt says, stabbing at his salad. “Your audition was perfect.”

“So was yours,” Blaine says, reaching forward to take Kurt’s hand. “But it’s just like every season of Project Runway, right? There’s always someone who gets let go before it’s their time. And they still make it in the real world, some other way. It’s not the end of the world.”

This dinner is the last they’ll see of each other for the night; Sam and Mercedes have gotten together and planned separate pre-match parties for the both of them (they had wanted to have the parties the night before the ceremony, but Kurt refused; there was no way his skin would look good enough for pictures the next day).

Kurt ends up at Mercedes’ for a sleepover with Rachel, while Sam and Blaine meet up with a couple of Sam’s friends from the swimming team, Mike and Matt, who also happen to be in glee with Kurt. 

The slumber party is going well--there’s a movie on featuring Kurt’s celebrity crush (“You have to get it out of your system now,” Rachel says. “You can’t look after you’re committed.” “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Kurt replies.) They’re all mid-skin treatment and working on their nails when Kurt’s phone rings. It takes him a few tries to answer it. 

“Kuuuuuurt,” Blaine’s voice purrs out on the other side of the line. “Kuuuurt. Your name is fun to say.”

“Are you drunk?” Kurt asks, laughing a little bit. 

“Maybe,” Blaine singsongs. “The guys said I couldn’t call you, that it was against the rules, but fuck that shit, I’m Blaine Anderson. I do what I want. I make the rules.”

“Yes you do,” Kurt says, working a file over his thumb. “So you’re hiding out in the bathroom?”

“Yeah,” Blaine breathes, sounding sleepy. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Kurt says. “Is that why you called?”

“Nooo,” Blaine says. “I got in!”

“You got in where?” Kurt pauses. “Blaine Anderson, are you at a strip club?”

“Pfft, no. What?” Blaine snorts. “Why would I want a strip club when I am getting committed to my soulmate in a week? Especially when my soulmate is super hot, like youuuu? And when you do that thing with your tongue?” There’s a scuffle on the other side of the line. “Dude, my soulmate does this thing with his tongue--”

“I don’t think the random guy cares what I do with my tongue, Blaine,” Kurt says loudly, sending Rachel and Mercedes into fits of giggles. 

“Ok, fine,” Blaine says. “Whatever.”

“So where did you get in?” Kurt says, moving on to the next nail.

“Duh,” Blaine says. “NYU!”

Kurt freezes, halfway through filing the nail. “What?”

“I just got the email!” Blaine says sounding chipper. 

“It’s Saturday,” Kurt says.

“I know!” Blaine says. “I wasn’t expecting it either, but there it was! I’m in!” Blaine sighs with happiness. “I can’t believe it, Kurt, it’s--it’s everything. It’s you, and it’s New York, and it’s everything. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m so--I’m so happy, Kurt.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Kurt says, cursing the bitter, jealous sensation curling up and making its home in his chest. He takes a deep breath. “Honey, I’m so happy for you.”

“I love you,” Blaine says. “So much.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt says, the warmth he feels toward Blaine making a strong effort toward putting his jealousy to rest. 

“I have to go,” Blaine says. “Sam is trying to steal my phone.” There’s another scuffle. “You fucker. Don’t you know who I am? Everyone’s scared of me.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re really scary,” Sam says in the background. Then, louder: “Sorry, Kurt. We’ve got him under control.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Kurt says, hanging up the phone. It takes him about ten seconds before he excuses himself to the bathroom, to Mercedes and Rachel’s giggles. He locks the door behind him and settles in on the closed toilet to check his email. 

It’s empty. He tries his best not to cry.


	19. Chapter 19

The next week is a blur for Kurt. He skips the second half of the school week, putting all his energy into finalizing plans and ignoring the fact that he still hasn’t heard from NYADA. Blaine asked once, on Sunday, after Kurt had come home and Blaine had sobered up.

“You’ll hear from them,” Blaine reassures Kurt with a kiss to his forehead. 

But he hasn’t by the time the day of the ceremony rolls around. It’s a busy day, and Mercedes has gracefully stepped up to the plate to take charge of the coordination, leaving Kurt to do nothing but sit around and think. 

It’s not as if it changes anything, Kurt knows; Blaine is just as made for him as he ever was, and there’s a whole city full of opportunities waiting for him even if this one doesn’t pan out. Still, Kurt has never dealt well with rejection, and he deals even less well with uncertainty. The last few years, Kurt’s dreams have centered less on his soulmate and more on his career, and he’s not ready to give that up just because he’s found the man he’s meant to be with. 

Because he has. There’s no doubt about it, and there wouldn’t be for Kurt even if they didn’t have each other’s fingerprints marked permanently on their skin. Kurt rolls up his sleeve and takes in the mark of Blaine’s fingerprint where it rests on the crook of his elbow. Blaine is a part of him. 

“Everything else is just window dressing,” Kurt says to his reflection, repeating something he remembers his dad saying when Kurt asked him about life with your soulmate when Kurt was younger. There’s a knock on the door.

“You ready, bud?” Burt asks, stepping into the room. “It’s time.”

Kurt nods. “I am.”

Commitment ceremonies are often very straightforward and dull affairs, though not always; Kurt is sure that it comes as no surprise to anyone present that his ceremony is not. The location--an abandoned warehouse that’s been cleaned up and decorated for the occasion--might seem a little unlike Kurt, but he supposes that’s only because the majority of the gathered celebrants don’t have the same memories of the space that he does. The ceremony itself takes place on the scaffolding, where the foam machines still sit (“Can we fire them off after you say your vows?” Sam asked at the rehearsal the night before, before lapsing into an indecipherable Sean Connery imitation. “Just ignore him,” Mercedes had interjected). Blaine and Kurt are both escorted to the front of the crowd, each by their fathers. Blaine’s father’s involvement had been a surprising but welcome last-minute addition. Escorting isn’t traditional, but many couples like to involve their families in the ceremony as much as possible.

The language of the ceremony is dry--an acknowledgement of the match, a documentation of the marks, an avowal by both Blaine and Kurt of their recognition of their match status and their intention to proceed as a matched couple both legally and interpersonally. Then there is the trading of the rings, which is a superfluous addition that many couples skipped but that both Kurt and Blaine had responded to immediately--a way of showing the world that they had found their match and committed to them. Finally, the officiant announces the match as certified and Blaine leans in to kiss Kurt, who meets him halfway. The gathered crowd cheers.

It feels different, somehow, their first kiss as a committed couple. It feels more permanent, more right. The room around them begins to transition into party mode, but neither Kurt nor Blaine can be bothered to acknowledge it. Finally, after several long moments have passed, Mercedes interrupts. 

“There are people lined up to congratulate you,” Mercedes says. “You’ll have plenty of time for kissing later.”

She’s right, of course, and Blaine and Kurt move to greet the crowd as a unit, which is what they are. They stay by each other’s sides for the rest of the night, dancing and eating and drinking together. It’s perfect; Kurt can’t imagine ever being happier. 

He’s so content that he’s managed to forget all about the email from NYADA. It’s only because he’s grabbing for his phone to take a picture of Blaine dancing with his grandma that he notices it. 

_From: NYADA Admissions Department  
Subject: Fall Admissions Decision_

He hesitates before sliding the notification open. He’s terrified about ruining his night by reading bad news, until he realizes that it doesn’t matter. Nothing can ruin this night for him--not even a denial from his first choice school.

_Dear Mr. Hummel,_

Congratulations! You have been admitted to the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts beginning this fall.

Kurt squeals, louder than he means to, but it’s barely audible over the din of the party. Blaine looks up, however, and meets Kurt’s gaze with a questioning one of his own. Kurt flashes his phone at Blaine, and though he knows Blaine can’t read it at that distance he still hopes the message communicates. It does, he can tell, because Blaine’s face lights up and he squeezes his grandmother tightly. Kurt begins laughing--it’s all he can think of to do when he sees how ridiculously happy Blaine is. It’s a fair approximation of his own feelings. Blaine comes bounding over at full speed, before pulling Kurt into a bear hug of his own. 

“You got in?” Blaine asks, twirling Kurt. 

“I got in,” Kurt replies, still laughing. 

“We’re going to New York, baby!” Blaine says, putting Kurt down but not letting go. 

“And all our dreams will come true,” Kurt replies, leaning in to kiss his soulmate.


	20. Chapter 20

EPILOGUE (FINALLY)

It’s the middle of June, and Kurt and Blaine are parked at an interstate truckstop in the middle of Pennsylvania. They’ve been on the road for four hours already, and for the most part it’s been smooth sailing. There had been some disagreement over whose traveling playlist should go first (Kurt felt his mellow list was a better warm up; Blaine felt his harder rocking list would keep them awake longer, since Kurt had insisted on leaving far too early in the morning). 

This is it--they’re on their way to New York. 

They’ve been committed officially for four months now, which they’ve spent at the Hummels’ instead of getting their own place because it seemed silly to move out for such a short amount of time and living with Burt had turned out all right, in the end. He’d been spending a lot of time with Carole, which left the boys to fend for themselves most evenings. They’d done pretty well at that, managing to feed themselves and complete homework in between pushing the boundaries of their physical relationship. 

They’d crossed the final physical hurdle the night of their commitment ceremony, just as they’d planned. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Kurt had always envisioned, in part because they’d been experimenting with fingers (and a bottle of lube once, just out of curiosity) already. 

There had been a moment where things had almost gone irrevocably wrong, when Blaine had let them into their hotel room only to find that the the room was occupied by a very naked Cooper and very screamy Rachel. Turned out the hotel concierge had pulled up the account for the wrong Anderson. The staff gave the boys a bottle of congratulatory champagne on the house to amend their error, and after a couple of glasses and a soak in the giant jacuzzi tub in the middle of the suite they were supposed to be in, things were back on track. 

They traded lazy kisses as they traced fingers cold from the glasses of champagne over skin heated by the bubbles surrounding them. Kurt worked up the nerve to move his weight on top of Blaine, straddling him carefully in an effort not to slosh the water in the tub over the edges and into the room. He didn’t want to have to pay for damages. 

The kisses intensified, and soon Blaine was sliding his hands lower, toying with the idea of dipping in between Kurt’s ass cheeks. He edged them on slowly, waiting until Kurt gave a sign of approval before moving on. He traced a finger around Kurt’s hole in an achingly slow tease. Kurt’s cock was already hard by then, brushing against Blaine’s abdomen with every little tilt of his hips. 

“We should move to the bed,” Blaine finally said, sliding his hands back up to Kurt’s hips. “I don’t--I want to do this right.”

“Okay,” Kurt said, stealing one last kiss before pushing his weight off of Blaine’s lap. 

It was awkward maneuvering to the bed, two naked boys with damp skin and hard cocks pausing to drain the jacuzzi and to spread out towels (“We have to sleep in this bed, Blaine, I’m not getting it all wet”) and to turn on music and to gather supplies before finally, finally they were back where they’d left off. 

They’d discussed the logistics of the evening earlier, in an embarrassingly clinical expression of wants and desires. They wanted to face each other, even though Blaine had read that it was easier doggy style (“We are not animals, Blaine”). They both agreed that they wanted Blaine to top, at least for the first time. And they were going to use condoms for ease of cleanup and to avoid infection (“And because I want it to last longer than a minute, honestly,” Blaine had admitted). 

Blaine’s face as he worked Kurt open was one of concentration and concern. 

“You look like you’re trying to open a really difficult jar,” Kurt finally said, reaching up to pull Blaine’s head down for a gentle kiss. “My ass is not a jar of pickles.”

“Not yet,” Blaine said, and then they were laughing, which led to more kissing. Soon, things were more like usual, which is to say that they were intense, messy, and ridiculously good. Blaine had three fingers inside Kurt when Kurt declared that he was ready, so ready. Blaine agreed and began fumbling for the condom with his messy hand. It took a couple tries before he got the package open, and another couple of tries to get the condom on. Then Blaine was situating himself over Kurt, balancing his weight on his palms just above Kurt’s shoulders. 

They’d been in this position hundreds of times by this point, but there was something so thrillingly new about the tease of Blaine’s condom-covered cock dipping lower than before, the head of it bumping against the skin drawn taut beneath Kurt’s balls and then down even lower. Blaine shifted his weight back further onto his legs, taking his cock in his hand and guiding it in place. He didn’t push it in, though, he just ran it over and around Kurt’s entrance, letting him get used to the feeling. 

“Please,” Kurt said, and Blaine nodded. 

“Yeah,” Blaine said, sliding his cock a little more firmly against Kurt. “Okay.”

It felt so different from Kurt from anything they’d used before. it was so much hotter, even through the buffer of the latex, and it managed to be both more solid and softer at the same time. Blaine’s torso was shaking, his lips worried between his teeth. It took so much longer than Kurt expected before he adjusted to Blaine’s girth and allowed him all the way in. Then, once Blaine was inside, it took so much longer for them to even get around to moving. 

“It feels so good, oh my god,” Blaine said, kissing every inch of Kurt he could reach. Kurt kissed back. 

“We haven’t even done anything yet,” Kurt breathed out, squeezing experimentally. Blaine groaned. 

“Oh my god, don’t, I can’t--”

“You should move,” Kurt said. Blaine’s breath was hot and humid on Kurt’s neck, his chest hairs a teasing tickle on Kurt’s nipples. Blaine slowly, slowly, pulled his hips back, just an inch, and then slowly, slowly moved them forward. 

“Oh fuck, that’s even better,” Blaine whined, doing it again. Kurt’s legs felt cumbersome and in the way, so he hitched them up higher, almost to Blaine’s shoulders, which let Blaine slide in more fully. “Oh god, Kurt, I can’t--”

“Fuck me, Blaine,” Kurt said, the words sounding foreign to his ears and feeling clumsy on his tongue. It seemed to work for Blaine, however, who began thrusting into Kurt in earnest. 

It didn’t last long for either boy, each thrust building the molten heat at the center of them until Blaine wrapped his hand around Kurt, who came, shaking and clawing at Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine followed close behind, moaning out a desperate cry into the sweaty skin at the curve of Kurt’s neck. 

It took a few minutes for them to catch their breath, at which point Kurt turned his head to face Blaine, who had collapsed beside him. 

“I’m glad we waited,” Kurt said. “That was incredible.” Blaine nodded. 

“We’re not waiting that long again, though,” Blaine replied. And they didn’t.


End file.
